Last Picked in Dodgeball

It's way worse in grad school then grade school. In grade school, even if you are last picked, you still get a game that has a bouncy redball or a large, worn parachute to play with. With the aid of these distractions, you quickly forget that insecurity. In grad school, the game has no bounce- it's a group paper that everyone is dreading and when you are last picked it means you are left with the Regurgatator who can only spit back, verbatim, things the professor has said. And you are left with the Looney Bin, who thinks that classes in education are therapy sessions only thinly disguised and so, out of some lame form of politeness, you and the other girl in your group who seems sane, let her go on and on about how she has been stalked by students before. And instead of writing that paper that you had wanted to be publishable, so good that Obama would read it and hire you for The D.O.E., you know you are gonna be lucky just to make it through the project with all your marbles intact. And you long for the days when losing your marbles was just something that happened at recess.