(I am a teaching assistant at a large university. One student has come to my office for help, and is now leaving for class. They see the large volume of papers on my desk.)

Student: “So, what were you working on before I got here?”

Me: “Oh, those are for my exam tonight.”

Student: *in all seriousness* “Oh, yeah, you’re a student too. Sometimes I forget my professors and TAs have lives and stuff too! It never really clicked…”

Me: “Yeah, it makes more sense that we’re robots.”

(My government professor is talking about congressional districts. He draws a square on the board to represent New Mexico.)

Professor: “New Mexico has three dist—”

Student: “You forgot the little notch at the bottom.”

(He adds a single notch to the southeast corner of his square.)

Professor: “New Mexico has—”

Student: “You put it on the wrong side.”

(He erases the old notch and draws a new one at the southwest corner of the state.)

Professor: “New Mex—”

Student: “Wait, there’s supposed to be one more little notch.”

(My professor erases the whole thing and draws a new rectangle.)

Professor: “Colorado has five districts…”

(I am a student employee at my university’s dining hall. My supervisor, a fellow student, is slicing melons for the salad bar.)

Supervisor: “You know, I’m actually deathly allergic to cantaloupe and honeydew.”

Me: “Really? By consumption, or any contact?”

Supervisor: “Well, if any of the juice gets on my skin I start to get hives.”

Me: “So… that’s got to be a real fun job for you right now.”

Supervisor: “Yep. Of course, I’ve never actually tested it. I’ve always thought of going to the ER and eating cantaloupe in the waiting room just to see what would happen.”

Me: “Well, that’s one way to do it. You’d go to the ER, eat cantaloupe, and if you start dying, you’d be in the right place!”

Supervisor: “Exactly!”

(A few minutes later, she picks up half of a huge honeydew melon. She holds it up over her head and yells to another coworker.)

Supervisor: “Look at the size of this melon! I could wear it as a hat!”

Me: “Except you’d probably die.”

Supervisor: “Yeah, probably.”

(I’m in the printmaking studio with friends, and it’s near the end of the semester. Most of our projects are finished, so we’re helping the professor to clean the studio and preparing for the break.)

Student #1: “Are you almost done cleaning the etching press?”

Student #2: “Yeah, why?”

Student #1: “Well, it just occurred to me that you’re shorter than the hand wheel on that press.”

Student #2: “Yeah, and?”

Me: “I think I like where this is going.”

Professor: “I KNOW I like where this is going.”

Student #1: “Do you get motion sick easily?”

Student #2: “Not really, what are you planning?”

Professor: “I think [Student #1] is proposing that we tie you to the wheel and give you a spin.”

Student #2: “H*** yes! Let’s do it!”

(We tie [Student #2] to the wheel using cleaning rags on her ankles, while she holds on to the other side with her hands. [Student #1] and another friend then spin the wheel around while the professor and I fling wet cleaning sponges at her from across the room. We have no idea, but a tour group of prospective students are on their way up, led by the department chair.)

Student #2: “Oh God! I think I might puke. FASTER!”

Professor: “You heard her, boys! Get that press spinning!”

Department Chair: “…we have the printmaking studio! This is the largest studio space in the building and includes two etching presses, two lithography presses, and…”

(The tour group comes in to see us slapping our friend with the sponges while she hangs up-side-down laughing. The tour looks horrified, but the head of the department doesn’t miss a beat.)

Department Chair: “…and various medieval torture devices. And to continue our tour, we’ll now move on to the true horror of the fine-arts building, the sculpture studio. Wait until you see what they do in there…”

(We are studying skin color. My professor is having us determine humans’ original skin color by looking at colors of our close primate relatives. She starts by pointing to a black chimpanzee.)

Professor: “Is he light or dark?”

(There is a murmur of responses.)

Professor: “Light? Did you guys just say he was light? Really?”

(She points to a picture of a very ripped actor.)

Professor: “What about him?”

Students: “Orange.”