By: Jack Peebis

1. Chelsea
Chelsea is the perfect teacher’s pet. Every morning, exactly ten minutes before the 8 am lecture begins, she struts into class and greets your professor with a genuine “How are you today?” that for a moment almost makes him forget the years of disillusionment that made him resent going into academia. It doesn’t matter when she forgets to do the assignments every other week; her presence is a blinding beam of light in a classroom of very, very tired people. But you’re not Chelsea. You once asked the professor how he was doing, and when he said “I’ve been better,” you responded with, “If you ever need anything at all, come to me.” Then you put your hand on his shoulder and, staring directly into his eyes, said, “I would do anything for you.” He doesn’t call on your side of the room anymore.

2. Harry
Harry talks a lot in class, references the readings, and puts out papers that are concise, well-researched, and, most importantly, easy to grade. He’s the star student who somehow never lost his spark after freshman year, and his interest in the course material makes the professor feel like his life’s work researching the Freudian implications of The Very Hungry Caterpillar were worthwhile.
You, on the other hand, once turned in a 10-page paper that referenced at least twenty different articles on the same topic with five pages of bibliography and footnotes, and your professor still called you in for plagiarism because you clearly just directly quoted the book that he himself wrote.

3. Marsha
Marsha used to be yet another informatics major who just needed an Arts and Humanities gen-ed, but now she’s considering changing her major because of your professor’s class. Her devotion to literature rather than a job-securing degree that guarantees a future makes your professor feel better about his poor life decisions.
Meanwhile, one day your professor looked up to see you staring at him through the small window in his door. When he made eye contact, you turned around and ran away, humiliated. Shortly after, he increased his life insurance.

4. Dave
Dave’s just cool. You do the math.

5. Elaine
Many summers ago, your professor was walking wearily across campus when he saw a beautiful redheaded woman picking tulips in the brush, a book of poetry open at her side. He was compelled to sit next to her, and he listened to her talk for hours about poetry, and tulips, and the beauty of language and how the world changes.
Their relationship was the stuff of fairy tales; stories about love that he’d read long ago and forgotten about. She gave him the gift of words, and he doted on every poem she’d ever loved, wanted to learn more about what they meant, took classes to learn the language of poetry and spent every waking moment poring over Plath, Wordsworth, and Roosevelt. His passion for her became his renewed passion for learning, and, for the first time in years, he was happy.
Until he lost her. One day, she was gone, and all she’d left was all the books, all the knowledge within.
Elaine never speaks in class. She’s never been to office hours. She rarely even makes eye contact. But still, something about her reminds him of that summer girl he’d met all those years ago. And while he’ll never initiate conversation with her, will never call on her in class unprompted, she gives him a sense of comfort knowing that, perhaps, in some way, his beloved continues to live on.

As for you? You don’t make the list because one time you hit your professor’s dog with your car and kept driving.