Engrish, Bitches

Dear Mr. Harville. In hindsight, I was glad I took your English 4 Honors AP class senior year. I know that last year was suppose to be chill and I just needed a B- to coast into college. And I know you know that I just transferred into the class, a class that had been together for all three years and knew each other well. Yes, I already knew a lot of those kids, but I hope you realized I was competing against a bunch of folks that all went to Ivy’s. And the kid that went to the worst school (sorry UCSD), was our valedictorian. So I really wish I had the balls to do what my brother Peter did in his Honors English class in the following paper. Cause life is HARD for a son of immigrant parents. Fuck no could I go home with Crime and Punishment and ask my moms for help on explaining the moral dilemma of  murder. And no, my dad doesn’t know who the fuck Maya Angelou is. So you were my only source of Engrish help. And its fucking sad that I had to go college to find a more understanding English teacher. And the same goes to you Ms. Lawlor, thanks for the B- in JUNIOR HIGH (WHO THE FUCK GETS B MINUES IN JR HIGH?!) cause I “talk back” all the time, and dressed like I was Left Eye Lopez. To all the “Mr. Farlows” of the world, this is a big fuck you from all the “Peter Nguyens” (not related to the 3 Peter Nguyens in my family alone).

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Peter, I hope you went to college, especially on the west coast. Cause if you did, and took an Ethnic Studies class and submitted this paper with the hand scrawled "See me" note, your prof would automatically give you an A in the class for STICKING IT TO THE MAN!

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