A Story I Wrote in Class

I found this as I was packing my stuff up to move, and it made me laugh.  It's a story I wrote about one of my professors.

When he smiles, he opens his mouth wide and squints his eyes tight, like a monkey. He lets his arms hang low which makes him more ape-like.  His grey, wispy hair occasionally catches a draft and moves.  Sometimes it moves against his motions and it looks like an animal trying to escape his head. With long skinny legs and a pot belly, his proportions are slightly odd.  His hand shakes often, and I am saddened by the thought that he might not teach much longer. I like his teaching style, but his facts could use some credence. His conspiracy theories get old quickly. He is not a particularly animated person, and, even as I write this, I am in his class.  I look around and everyone is intently staring at their notebooks.  The pages are blank, no notes have been taken.  The more I come to this class, the more I am amused by his technological illiteracy.  He once asked if we should rewind a DVD.  At least 5 minutes of every class is spent turning things on the right way, including the lights. I have to admire that he tries.  Today, he drew on the wall instead of the dry erase board.  Oh well.