At the departmental potluck, I kept my mouth pretty much shut, afraid that if I spoke, everyone would realize that I don’t know what I’m talking about. Not that I didn’t ask a few questions. A couple of teachers talked about throwing people out of their classes—troublemakers. Their talk made me realize the subtle ways I’m being taken advantage of by certain students. I’d been looking for the criminal with the livid scar on his face and all the while I’d been getting my pockets picked. M., the independent-study kid I picked up last week, is a liar and a poor student. I shouldn’t have let her in
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