Dazed and Confused is the guy who sits in the back—you know, the one sporting a hoodie so that you won’t notice he’s got ear buds stuffed into his head. Even when the climate turns chilly, he wears cargo shorts and flip-flops. He’s consistently disheveled, with a scruffy beard and Medusan locks that don’t appear to have been shampooed in days. (In a culture in which squeaky-clean appearances trump all else, you have to admire this brand of nonchalance.)
In class, Dazed and Confused possesses all the traits of the “ideal student” since he’s so quiet and stares at you quizzically during lectures, leading you to believe you’re saying something incredibly thought-provoking and original.
In truth, he’s got no idea what you’re talking about since, in general, he doesn’t tune in until twenty minutes or so into class (that is to say, if he tunes in at all). He laughs at your jokes, especially when they’re at the expense of corporate America, and he nods in agreement when you pontificate about the importance of cultivating a creative sensibility and “thinking outside the box.”
Outside of class, if you run into him, you get along famously, chatting about Dylan and indie flicks and other miscellaneous topics that have nothing at all to do with what you teach. When you mention that he should consider buckling down to put more effort into his assignments, he waves his hand and assures you, “Ah, man, definitely.”
At the end of the semester, you feel a tad guilty giving Dazed and Confused a less-than-stellar grade since he recommended so many great places in town to hear live music.