AOW #1

I write to you today in lieu of an astounding occurrence; one that could have been prevented if it had not been for harsh misjudgment and a false sense of conservatism.  Ms. Doyle Byrnes and four other students were dismissed from your school [Johnson County Community College]’s nursing program after a so-called “disruption to the learning environmet”. This “disruption” was the simple act of Ms. Byrnes taking a photograph with a human placenta. Now, you say, “Why, that’s intolerable. Who knows whose placenta that is? What if she were to come forward and claim it?” Well, from the only photos of the accused circulating around on the internet, how could a woman identify her placenta from a grainy, poor quality, black and white picture? I know I could not. But my own personal attention to detail in poor quality images holds no ground in this case What about the fact that Ms. Byrnes was doing nothing even slightly questionable in the photo.  She was simply holding the tray, smiling in a conventional way, appearing, overall, very professional. Was she wearing the placenta on her head? Was she juggling with her own bare hands (mind you, she did have gloves and a surgical coat on in the picture)? Is she even handling the placenta with her gloved hands? Yes, there is a hook or some type of surgical device in it, but it appears to be assisting in the overall image, not just for the fun of poking it. Keep in mind that these students are not the stereotypical “giddy” school girls. They conduct themselves in a professional manner and they are very career minded. Ms. Byrnes is intending on wedding in August of this year, with yet another intention of relocating to Virginia with her new spouse to pursue her now possibly doomed career in registered nursing.  How could one obtain a job in registered nursing or even gain entry to another willing nursing program with that kind of poorly judged black mark on her records? She will be the leper amongst her peers; cast out for doing nothing wrong. So tell me again what was wrong with this picture? About the only defense you would have left is the “religious morality” stance, which is not even remotely viable in this context, for your university is a public institution; open to any and all people looking for higher education. In conclusion, I would ask that you to please repeal your decision because there seems to be no factual evidence behind it.  

A Bra is a Women's Undergarmet; Not a Nickname.

I do recollect the apprehension I felt as I wondered into fourth hour newspaper class. I had heard through our school's seemingly never ending grapevine of students and students prior that he was a funny fellow, and that they had many great memories of his class, predominately from his newspaper students. Another thing that had come to my attention (mostly spoken through a low murmur, as though it was an exceptionally infectious ailment) was that he had a knack for jokes, nearly always at a student's own personal casualty. I was not made aware of the severity and cruelty of the jokes, however. I was to now fend for myself, clinging to the hope that he would not be the barbarous, atrocious man I had made him out to be. I determined my seating arrangement to be just adjacent to Mr. Allen's desk, where there was currently no others sitting. I looked up at the clock, menacingly ticking down the seconds, getting ever so closer to the black mark of three-quarters-after-ten. It was now forty-four minutes after ten. My anxiety increased as the seconds droned by. Promptly, at ten forty-five, the bell rang. Mr. Allen looked up at his new victims through his small, wire rimmed glasses. We went through the generalized greetings and explanations of the class. He seemed kind enough. Still, my angst disapproved of subsiding. At last, we advanced to the selection of our first pages. Mr. Allen, in his typical humor, deemed it necessary to develop a nickname for his new subjects. We went down the list of pages, with him haphazardly picking kids and assigning them their nicknames.

Then came my name.

He contemplates, looking thoughtfully at his computer screen. His hand begins to rub his chin.

Nothing he thinks seems the entice him.

Then it comes.

He begins to type.

Just three letters. B-r-a.

Bra. My new nickname was Bra. Great, just fantastic. Unfortunately, it stuck. I eventually conjured up his own nickname; Mallen.

But to this day, I still despise that nickname. But hey, that class was great.