With the onslaught of projects, exams, more exams, and even more projects coming up, it’s a foregone conclusion that some of you resourceful pricks will try to find ways to woo your professors to give you a grade boost. We’re right there with you. Let’s all put our public relations cap on and lie our Niner asses off so daddy can pay tuition next semester. Here are seven sentences to win that professor over to the light side:
7.) “Your three-year-old child is soooo cuuute!”:
Apparently, take-your-daughter to work day is a weekly thing at UNCC. We’re pretty sure the fucking janitors bring their kids to help scrub shit off the Fretwell bathrooms. No matter; if you see your engineering professor dragging his little parasite across campus, skip Starfish appointments, and haul ass to his office, where you can babysit the thing until that 78.8 turns into an 80.
6.) “Your talk on _____ was soooo goood!”:
You run into the Union this week to escape the random downpour (wtf, God?) and notice fifty posters advertising your professor’s talk on: gender roles in the workforce, gender roles in university, gender roles in the hood, or the theory of relativity for communication majors. Find your department homepage and skim the summary of the talk. After a tiresome 8 a.m., stay after class to mention how inspired you were about “recreational marijuana use in Ugandan military hospitals.” The grades will flow like wine (or grape juice) on a Sunday.
5.) “I like Starbucks toooo!”:
This one is a bit selective, but easy to do if you’ve got a lot of white inside you. Apparently, the third most active group in the Union Starbucks line is professors, after sorority chicks and frat guys hitting on sorority chicks. Hell, “accidentally” cut in front of him and start discussing the intelligent beverage: how it was brought to Europe in the 18th century and was one of the key reasons for the Enlightenment…. He’ll give you his degree after that caffeine high sets in.
4.) “Your _____ textbook is soooo informative!”:
This stunt works best if you bought the thing new at our overpriced Barnes and Noble; carry it in that “B&N” bag to double the illusion that both you and the university give a shit about his wellbeing. They told us not to bribe teachers, but hey, giving them our parents’ money for textbooks isn’t buying favoritism. It’s ensuring success. You know the drill: have it out in the front row of class, actively highlight the bold words, and ask him questions about big boy words you dug up in the glossary. Who said anything about an unwinnable scenario?
3.) “I read your blog and was woooooowed!”:
Yes. Some of our professors have blogs. Make a point to read the “about me” page while desperately avoiding the awkward picture of him in a “GO NINERS” t-shirt with his wife standing on a sugar plantation in Jamaica for their annual cruise. It’ll be best if s/he wrote an opinion article about the terribly long Denny renovations, so you both can muse about the “inefficiency of the American labor market.” Just make sure you tell him/her about how efficient it’ll be for him/her to hand over that A.
2.) “I can’t wait to be yoooour TA!”:
Let’s be honest: the TAs at UNCC don’t do jack. Printing and handing out the test is the most backbreaking thing they’ll do. And while it’s a paid position, make sure the pro knows you care about the learning process, helping your fellow students, and all that other jazz. His task of re-using a PowerPoint he made in the late nineties is too backbreaking for anyone to endure. For the icing on the cake, discuss all this while sipping homegrown Starbucks.
Yes, it’s a commuter school. Yes, it’s a glorified community college. But, turns out that most of the professors are worth their PhDs. If 2-8 don’t work, you can always refer to what they taught in kindergarten: a simple, honest please. Make your eyes super wide to force those tears up. Tell him about how proud you want you Niner family to be. It’s all in his hands. Make the motherfucker guilty.
So when you get a passing grade at the end of the semester, remember who got you there. It wasn’t your hard work. It wasn’t your parents’ bloated requests; it’s not middle school, after all. It was The Black Sheep. You heard it here first.
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