The English professor's secret sin

It's probably Wrong, Evil, and Very Very Bad for English professors to make fun of their students' writing mistakes...which is why I do it behind closed doors. When students walk past my door and hear a sudden outburst of uncontrollable laughter, they might wonder what illicit action I'm induling in: drugs? drink? P.G. Wodehouse? No, I'm just reading student papers peppered with sentences like this one: "The hospital traditionally gives blue or pink blankets and gourmets according to sex."

I know it's wrong. I know I've come not to laugh at students' prose but to raise it to a higher level, but sometimes it would take superhuman self-control to avoid laughing at the ridiculous statements that pop up in papers:

What makes America what it is is our freedoms.

The party seems to be gathering a lot of public sediment.

Once in the hotel room high and on drugs the striper comes.

Timson supports this theory when explaining how her daughter longs to be "Miss Britney Spears" and immolates her actions and dress.

I know for a fact that she made a bias on how small town people act with one another, especially with comments like that of the meatloaf.

Frederick Jackson Turner groped Indians with outlaws and animals.

The audience is introduced to her through a search for the lost cow in which she finds the strange man in the woods hunting.

Despite the evidence, they were not suede.

Without I or one, there is no you! That is the positive aspect.

Images of thin pouty-lipped models are thrown into our faces every few seconds, forcing that piece of equal pie we've longed for to be thrown up into that holy grail, deemed the toilet, of problems and insecurities, the toilet called society and the problem labeled bulimia.

I could go on all day. But that would be Wrong, Evil, and Very Very Bad. Instead, I'll just chuckle quietly behind closed doors.