As an 11th Grade teacher, I know the importance of the role I play in fostering knowledge and curiosity in youngsters, in ushering in a new generation of potential scientists and doctors, in helping my students believe they can achieve whatever they want as long as they work hard and push themselves to the best of their abilities. But Jessica Song is so hot I will not let her graduate.

Oh, Jessie. You and your hotness. I remember the first day you stepped into my class in your knee-high socks and short skirt. You sat in the front row, crossed your slender legs, and proceeded to scribble in your spiral notebook with your H2 pencil. Your penmanship was flawless, and your spelling, to die for. It was almost like you read my mind and knew about my note-taking fetish.

I know you are disappointed I gave your paper on Othello an F. To be honest, it was the best paper I read in my eight years of teaching. You could have won scholarships based on that essay alone. Genius was the way you incorporated concepts you learned in class, the way you utilized proper keywords, the way you followed MLA guidelines perfectly to formulate your bibliography. But damn, you have nice breasts.

Still, you are too young, Jessie. The others would not understand. That is why I’m failing you, Jessie. Stay here until you’re in your 20’s and then we can go off to a foreign country and start a new life together. What do you think about Russia? I watched your Powerpoint presentation on the Cold War, and you seemed to know a lot about the place.

I’ll be waiting, Jessie. You do not know it yet, but our life will be beautiful. Until then, please keep taking notes. Please keep putting i before e except after c. I love it so much when you do that.

Back in the old days when I still hunted, triceratopses were my favorite game.

I used to think I was plagued by personal demons, but they have since assured me that it was nothing personal. They, it turned out, were business demons.

I always felt there is glory in being first: to be in first place, to be first choice, to be First Lady. The glory is so great that for those lucky enough to be first in posting a comment to an internet article, sometimes all you really need to say is “first”. This is why I never quite understood why my one and only spouse gets so irritated when I call her my first wife.

I do not wish to reinforce negative stereotypes of the Chinese, but it is a fact that no matter what kind of hat I put on, I look like a fisherman.