Oh sour merciless God, please deliver me from this deluge of abominable student prose. Save me from the passive voice. Let someone do something. Redeem the tepid relativism of this younger generation without turning them into your zombie cheerleading squad. Grant me the good will to see the hint of potential in the oh so very mediocre. Allow me the patience and fortitude to shoulder this load for two more days. Or better yet, make these last twenty-eight papers so good that I will wish I had more. Fill them full of modest but thoughtful philosophical speculation. Let them demonstrate a previously hidden attentiveness. Let my labor bear some visible fruit. Give me a sign Lord.
Amen.
