You are like 100 years old

Why the hell are you even taking classes? To what end are your studies? By the time you achieve any level of significant learning you will be bedding down in your coffin.

Your constant teacher-nagging and moronic-question-asking are the bane of my existence. Have the synapses of your brain stopped firing so completely that you cannot control the difference between an idea formulating in your head or just dribbling directly out of your mouth in the form of slow, poorly enunciated speech? Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps the entirety of the rest of the class doesn't want to stop the discussion and listen to your feeble attempts at intellectualism which seem to jut forth at random, completely unrelated to the topic at hand? I didn't think so...

Why, oh why, must you sit directly next to me and attempt to type your notes on some sort of keyboard with a tiny LCD screen contraption when you clearly haven't even learned your home keys yet? I apologize that Gutenberg had just created the first movable type press when you went to prom, but your enthusiasm for embracing technology does not excuse the horrendous racket you create hen-pecking your keyboard with a force that may only have been required when you used your rotary dial phone, not an electronic keyboard!

Also, I love the gecko tattoo. You probably got that about forty years ago or so, when you were having your first midlife crisis. That nearly indecipherable little blob of ink on your ankle doesn't give you any more "youth credit" than the liver spots that dot your arms.

You should really just embrace your age, drop out of school, cover that tattoo with thick socks and orthopedic shoes and resign yourself permanently to a wheelchair, where your inane babble will seem much more appropriate. Leave the academic pursuits for those of us who still have more surviving brain cells than we can count on both hands. You had your time, now please go die.