There is this student. Let’s say this is a composite student because, ultimately, this is a composite student. This student has taken classes from me for three, maybe four semesters. This student has also taken classes from other history professors for as many semesters plus two more. In all of these classes, this student has had to write research papers. In all of these classes, this student has been taught, told, and graded down for not following the instructions to follow a particular citation style that can be found on the library website, the address of which has been included in every syllabus, instruction sheet, and online component to every class. In every class, this student has been taught, told, graded down for not following instructions to cite the source of all information, not just quoted information. Said student persists in citing only quotations and citing them improperly, in spite of penalties.

Said student wants to be a history teacher. But, that’s not the point. I just bring that up because this is what brings that lovely sense of futility to my life, knowing that, in six to ten years this student’s students will be right there in my classroom doing the same damn thing.

Anyway. These are the little things that make me feel as if my life is one of futility.