A letter that’s not meant to suggest anything

–Zoe Collier (graphic)

–Zoe Collier (graphic)

Dear That One Guy/Gal,

You are very intelligent. We are all aware of that, and we all appreciate you gracing us with your presence in class. Moreover, we are all aware that you know more than anyone in the class, the professor included. Clearly, you should be the one getting paid. Your insights on how Plato’s theory that knowledge is based on recollection and not study is riveting—so enthralling, in fact, that it likely means you should be exempt from all further assignments. However, being humble is also a thing that people do.

Though we mere mortals can never truly fathom your brilliance, we accept and respect that your insights are superior and innately true, but why not remain silent for a class and chuckle to yourself in regards to our inherent stupidity?

Yes, it is true that you are smarter than the professor. It becomes blatantly obvious when you recite back the exact thing they just said in more . . . eloquent language. We all watch as the professor’s ego slowly recoils at the majesty of your brilliance. Envy is a powerful drug. I’ll bet the professor goes home in the evening, sips on their tea, and writes each of your impeccably abstract yet informative comments in a little journal, which they then lay under their pillow at night in an attempt to absorb your superior knowledge. They never will though. Poor fools.

And as for us, your classmates, it must be immensely satisfying to know that we will never reach your cognitive level. Do I know that Milton’s sonnet “When I consider how my light is spent” can be looked at as a critique of the blindness of “today’s society” because we are all blinded by pretense? No, I do not know this, because I will never be able to understand the world the way you do, nor will your other classmates, whose brains clearly scurry around like hamsters on a wheel. If I were as brilliant as you, it would be hard for me to resist flaunting my brain in class to drown out the noise of us ‘regular people.’

The purpose of this letter, however, is to help you out, hopeless as that may seem. We know that the idea of help is foreign to you, as you are omnipotent and can spot an issue from a mile away and spew out a philosophically charged conclusion that will likely bring us to tears.

But honestly, you deserve a break. Yes, I know this will leave us, the unwashed, bereft of your nuggets of brilliance, but, go for it! Treat yourself! Take a break! We are all giving you permission to sit silently as the rest of us participate in what you may see as ‘psycho-babble.’

So, That Guy/Gal, sit back and relax next class! And enjoy the ridiculousness that ensues. You may even find the professor is smiling just a bit more than usual.

Sincerely,

Your Adoring Classmates (and probably the Professor too)

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