Be the Change--Fucking What?

I fucking miss getting drunk. Alcohol rocks.

The English instructor asks me, almost casually, "Did you email [English Division chair]?"

"Yes," I say before thinking. Shit, I was supposed to deny this. The email I sent was meant to be anonymous.

"He said something about 'praise,' I haven't read it yet," the English instructor adds. "Thank you." He smiles briefly.

This wasn't exactly the response I was expecting. First, I wrote a two paragraph "praise" of the English instructor to what is essentially the head of the English department, saying that he was very dedicated to his job, and did it excellently. I thought he deserved it, not because I was expecting anything in return. In fact, I asked in the email that my name not be used.

The English instructor seems to not let praise affect him, which is unfortunate.

Either as if he couldn't expect or except praise or that it happened so often, he was immune to it. Like the charming guy at the party who circles around the room, shaking hands all night long, smiling and being pleasant.