Dear Obnoxious Person in Class,

Can you please stop being a poser-revolutionary in lecture and/or discussion? It's nothing personal. Well, actually it is. You're being pretty ridiculous, although I have the sneaking suspicion that it comes somewhat naturally to you. If I have to hear you announce to the class one more time that you've already done all the reading for the next three weeks and that you just have "no idea" what to do with all this free time, I'm going to go insane.

I know the professor just asked if anyone had any additional questions. But, as you would have been able to tell had you been religiously monitoring the clock for the past 15 minutes like any normal person, there is exactly one minute left before class ends. It is 3:59 p.m. and this is my last class on Friday. See that girl over there-right there in the front, the one who's poised to sprint out the door like a cheetah in about 20 seconds? Yeah, that's pretty much how 99 percent of the class feels right now. So, I'm just curious: Was it really necessary for you to ask that irrelevant question that left you looking completely obnoxious? Does anyone (besides you) give a shit about what types of names Paleolithic hunter-gatherers gave their children?

And while we're there, if you're that guy or girl who uses uncharacteristically sophisticated words when asking questions in class, can you just do without the ego boost for one day? I know you don't use phrases like "prima facie" when you're outside of section-i.e. when you're not trying to come off as some aging Latin scholar. We all know you read that phrase somewhere, maybe even in the reader for this course, and wrote it down in your notebook with the distinct intent of using it sometime in class to appear intelligent. And you didn't just want to use it, but actually pretend like it was part of your vernacular. "Why, that old phrase?" you say, throwing your head back with a pretentious chuckle, "I've been using it since I was 12 years old and started reading The Economist." Spare me.

Now, the sound of your voice isn't completely atrocious. I mean, it's no Creed. But I'm still not sure how you could possibly be so obsessed with it. I've seen that expression you get on your face when you open your mouth to bullshit a nonexistent parallel between "The Sound and the Fury" and "Sex and the City." The rest of the class is timing how long it will take before the GSI cuts you off and asks whether you've even opened the book-you hit a record this time of four minutes and 35 seconds, in case you were wondering. But of course you're not, you're completely oblivious. And right about now, you've got this expression that says, "Wow. I can barely believe the sheer genius that is coming from my mouth. Did you just hear that? Gosh, I still don't know how I do that." I really don't know how you do it, either. How do you manage to appear less competent than that guy in section who hasn't even bought the required texts? It truly is baffling.

In conclusion, I really wish there was a way to get you to act normal. It might be weird at first, not getting the usual stares from your classmates and not being able to witness the sigh of relief your GSI makes whenever you decide to reconsider opening your mouth and put your hand down (it's only happened twice, but it was pretty momentous). I'm not saying you should stop talking altogether, or even that you should start making points that are slightly relevant and intelligible. I don't really believe in miracles. But what I am suggesting is that maybe you could rethink the placement of "magnum opus" in the comment you're about to make to your class. Or maybe just take baby steps and reconsider asking questions that probably make you look dumber than you are, like "What is the philosophy of an integral?" We've all figured out you're an idiot by now-a status that not even interspersing random Latin phrases can save you from-but remember what good old Mark Twain said: "Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt." Like I said, it's a bit too late for that at this point, but maybe we can at least help you salvage your reputation for next semester.

Sincerely,

The Girl Who Had the Misfortune of Sitting Behind You