Mamacita says:  Students, WHATEVER ELSE you may say or do after you’ve been absent, don’t EVER waltz into a class the next session and say, “Did we do anything while I was absent?”

Or, “Did I miss anything?”

Or, “Do I have any make-up work?”

Because, you see, those first two questions are tactless, tasteless, rude, boorish, insipid, and proof positive that the speaker is completely lacking in both common sense and intelligence.

That last question is unnecessary, because it says right there on the syllabus, plain as day, and, in fact,  both highlighted and emboldened:  There is no make-up work at the college level.  If you miss class, you miss whatever was done that day.  Period.

 I hope Cancun was worth another semester in the same class.

The following has appeared on teacher blogs all over the internet, but it’s still hilarious and oh, so apt.  I suppose, if you’re a slacker and a party animal and a person who goes to Cancun in the middle of the semester, it might not be quite so funny, but then, if you fit that description, who cares what you think anyhow?

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“Did I Miss Anything?”

(Question frequently asked by students after missing a class)

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here, we sat with our hands folded on our desks
in silence, for the full three hours.

Everything. I gave an exam worth 40 per cent of the grade for this term and assigned some reading due today on which I’m about to hand out a quiz worth 50 per cent.

Nothing. None of the content of this course has value or meaning. Take as many days off as you like: any activities we undertake as a class I assure you will not matter either to you or me and are without purpose.

Everything. A few minutes after we began last time a shaft of light descended and an angel or other heavenly being appeared and revealed to us what each woman or man must do to attain divine wisdom in this life and the hereafter. This is the last time the class will meet before we disperse to bring this good news to all people on earth.

Not much.  The students who passed the quiz in class yesterday are exempted from the Final Exam.

A lot.  The bursar came by and held a lottery, and the winners have had their student loans forgiven.  You and three others are the only ones who now have to pay it all back.

Nothing to speak of.  Your parents came by to take you out to lunch after class, but when they saw that you weren’t there, they took the professor out instead. 

Not a thing. When we realized you weren’t there, we were too worried to do any work, so we all got in our cars and drove to your house to make sure you were all right. You must have been in the emergency room still.

Nothing. When you are not present, how could something significant occur?

Nothing much.  Ed McMahon came by with a big check, but he left after twenty minutes and took it back with him.

A lot.  The professor was sick, so Adam Sandler and Ellen DeGeneres did stand-up for three hours, and everybody left with a new car and a lifetime supply of Turtle Wax.

Everything. Contained in this classroom is a microcosm of human existence assembled for you to query and examine and ponder. This is not the only place such an opportunity has been gathered, but it was one place, and you weren’t here.