Dear Doris,

I said some things about you in a previous post that were less than flattering. I implied you were a cheating harlot, I implied you were less than sane, and I implied you were really freakin' old. After today's class, I realize that only one of these things are really, truly true. There were a few things that jumped out at me when I first met you, like how the idle expression on your face is one of distress and cynical anger, and like how that led me to believe you were a mean person.

When the teacher took you out of the classroom today to talk about how you had used a calculator, though, and you tried to keep an uplifted expression on your face as you went, I realized what a big jerk I was for secretly thinking all this stuff about you. Getting to know you more I realize that you're not a bad woman, Doris. You're actually really nice -- which only serves to affirm how much of a sh**head I am.

I did not know that a 4x4 pickup truck jackknifed your sedan in the middle of the road three months ago. I did not know that the resulting impact caused you to hit your head very hard, which now serves to impair your ability to efficiently comprehend things -- things like remedial math. I did not know that this injury causes you spontaneous short-term memory loss, and I did not know that you really thought the teacher said we could use calculators.

While we're talking about things I didn't know -- hey, I didn't know your son died of cancer. That's wild, get right outta town! Wh-... you're the head and president of your own cancer charity society? YOU DON'T SAY.

I am a terrible person, Doris, and I apologize. You are a modern day saint. I think about how nice the people are at my table and I'm really grateful that I didn't sit down at another one, like, for example, the table with all those frat guys, or the one with all the fat girls. The only other table I wouldn't have minded sitting at, I think, is our neighbor table with all the babes sitting at it. We have a MILF at ours, so at least it's not a sausage fest, am I right? Yeah, I'm right. See, Doris? We can laugh about this.

I also don't know if your name is really Doris.

I'm really sorry.