Chinese student hypnotizes her college lecturer.
Her voice seems to link directly to my mind. Her words sound ridiculous, impossible, outrageous.
I reply;
"Yes, Cayla."
I hear her fingers click. I feel like I've just woken up.
I'm in the classroom. The hard floor tells me that I am kneeling. Looking down in horror, I see my manhood standing erect. I am naked! Standing before me, Cayla laughs cruelly. Her dark eyes fix me with a sadistically knowing stare.
She knows something I don't.
"I already have photo of your peepee, photo of you naked."
Her English is accented, grammatically imperfect, but no less effective for that.
"What? What's going on! What have you done?"
My anger is real, forceful, but my desperation and helplessness are betrayed by my tone.
Cayla drops a collection of papers to the floor.
"I say I have photo of you. So, my essay pass ok!"
I recognise her writing on the paper. The situation is clear.
"Be a good boy."
She laughs and leaves the room. As I look at the distinct writing style on the paper, I begin to remember...
I usually read a student's first essay with exasperation but this one was particularly bad. Not only are the arguments shallow and superficial with no evidence of real academic research, the quality of language makes it impossible to understand sometimes.
'Very many of the global and multi-national can using these social medias peripaticaaly and resounding success from the feedback of the users instantly traditional media not have.'
Even if you can work that out try doing it over 2000 words. You begin to get dizzy trying to make sense of it all. Typing in the student's number I send a note to him or her to see me asap.
It was the end of a long, hot day and I was beginning to feel tired. The fan in my office spun relentlessly. I was not surprised when it was Cayla (not her original name of course) who appeared in my office. I like her as a student. Quite smart though not a particularly hard worker. Not what everyone would call 'beautiful', she has somewhat sharp features and even some evidence of faded acne on her forehead but her eyes and her smile have a strangely alluring vivaciousness to them.
"You want to see me teacher?"
She walks confidently into my space. Chinese students, especially female ones, are usually quite shy but I find her sense of assurance quite appealing.
"Please sit down Cayla. We need to talk about your essay."
As I go over it's problems, she keeps smiling very confidently. A strange reaction for someone who is being told their work is unintelligible. I find myself drawn to her eyes and find it difficult to concentrate on the mass of ink that is her essay in front of me.
"Sorry, teacher. I know my grammar is poor but my idea is fine. Please, you must read it carefully to find it."
"Yes, but Cayla look here. This sentence is so long, the grammar is wrong, I can't understand what you are saying."
Her eyes begin to brim with tears. I begin to feel bad despite myself.
