At 22, I decide to go back to college and get some much-needed A-Levels, since I have none.

During the length of my course, we cover numerous topics, including one on politics and government. Perhaps because I am older and therefore more aware of the things that go on in the world, I tend to find this class rather easy.

Perhaps one of the best moments is when I and the laziest member of the class are asked to do presentation on a political party. It just so happens we get the BNP, which, for those unaware, is a very right wing party in the UK that is associated with very racist ideals. I do all my slides, and at about 9:00 pm before the deadline, my partner calls me to admit he hasn’t done any work. I don’t really panic; I just stick in a few slides to cover his work and figure he can sink or swim.

The next morning, we give our presentation, and my tutor calls it the best of the lot and praises the content and the delivery.

The next year, the lazy classmate is not invited back for the second part of the course, and I have a conversation with my tutor, who explains that the current group hasn’t done anything near as good. I own up and admit that the lazy classmate didn’t do anything, and that I did it all.

The tutor responded, “Oh, I knew as soon as you stood up that he hadn’t done anything; he never handed in a single piece of coursework. I knew it was all your work and that he was just reading the info on the slides. All the praise was meant for you, because, honestly, that guy wouldn’t scratch his own a*** if he thought he could get someone else to do it for him.”

(I share a name with a few other girls in my grade.)

Girl #1: “Hey, [My Name]!”

Me and Girl #2: “Yeah?”

Girl #1: *staring me directly in the eyes* “It’s not you, you f****** attention w****. Why do you think it would ever be you? It’s always you! Just this once, it’s not you, and you can’t f****** deal with that, can you? You little b****, you just do whatever you want to do and grab whatever measly bits of attention you can scrounge up. Well, you know what? I don’t care. I truly don’t. You can go die in a hole, because it will never. Be. You.” *turns to [Girl #2]* “Anyway! [Classmate #1] is apparently dating [Classmate #2] now! Isn’t that fantastic?!”

Girl #2: “What the living f***, [Girl #1]?”

(I more or less walked away with my jaw on the ground. There’s gotta be a nicer way to tell a person you’re not talking to them.)

(An unused tampon has fallen out of someone’s backpack, and is now sitting on the floor. Most girls shuffle over it, but the guys jump away like it’s an unpinned grenade.)

Teacher: “Guys, go sit down!”

Guys: “There’s a tampon on the floor!”

Me: *picking it up* “It’s unused.”

Teacher: “Really, guys? Go sit.”

Guy #1: “Ew, you’re holding it?”

Girl #1: “That’s literally just a compressed cotton ball.”

Girl #2: “It hasn’t even touched a vagina.”

Teacher: “Can I see it?”

Guy #2: “This is f****** disgusting.”

Guy #3: “GROSS!”

Teacher: “Hey, [Girl #3], catch!”

(The girls in the classroom tossed it around before finally chucking it in the trash. The guys eventually sat down, and that teacher is still one of my favorites.)

(I have injured my right wrist. It’s wrapped, and my arm is in a sling to avoid any further strain. Due to previous sports injuries, I have already taught myself to write with my left hand, but it’s much slower than with my right. Today, we not only have a written test in my ASL class, but a substitute administering it. I am struggling to complete the test in time.)

Classmate: *finishes and goes to turn in his test, whispers* “Mrs. [Substitute Teacher]?”

Substitute Teacher: “Yes?”

Classmate: “[My Name]—” *points at me* “—hurt her arm and can’t write well. Could we step out in the hall, so I can help her write?”

Substitute Teacher: “Absolutely not! You’re just going to cheat.”

Classmate: “Even if I wanted to, she doesn’t need my help.” *taps the gradebook on the teacher’s desk* “Check for yourself. She has the highest grade in the class.”

Substitute Teacher: *looks up to see the whole class nodding, while I blush a million shades of red* “Go sit down.”

(A few minutes pass, during which time she actually does open the gradebook. She calls us both up.)

Substitute Teacher: “Fine. You two can go out in the hall. But I WILL be checking on you, and I will leave a note for your teacher. She could fail you if she thinks this is cheating.”

Me: *knowing the teacher and her views, I’m not worried* “Thank you.”

Classmate: *takes my test paper and leads the way outside* “Question 12?”

Me: “Thanks, [Classmate]. I really appreciate this.”

Classmate: “No problem. When I was on crutches, you were always the first to help. And besides, now I don’t have to wait to find out what I got wrong. Now, number 12?”

(Thanks to him, I finished the test in plenty of time, and aced it. He had only missed one, about the history of Gallaudet University, but the teacher gave him extra credit for helping me, so it evened out.)

(We are currently taking a class on the throat and voice, and all the things that can impact them.)

Professor: “A woman’s cycle can impact her voice, as well. And if there are multiple women together for a long period of time, they can sync up.”

Male Student #1: “No. You lie. They don’t actually—”

Female Student #1: “Actually, they do.”

Female Student #2: “Regularly. Especially with choir members.”

Female Student #3: “Most of us in this class have already synced.”

All Male Students: *all turn to stare at us* “What?!”