Although I have not yet submitted a single grade, you are almost over. If not all the way over, then virtually over. "Over." As in, I am over you. Mostly. Except for that one student I'm talking to on Saturday morning. And the few extensions I granted, but really: OVER, just about.
I have totaled up the participation portion of your grade. I have read your portfolio, Academic Year 2009-2010, and I have assessed its rhetoricity. I have contemplated, though only by means of the sidelong glance, your collateral damage, and guess what? I am denying you your incomplete.
I have a gown but no cap and certainly no regalia, Academic Year 2009-2010. I am not down with regalia. I am, to be honest, not down with the gown, either, but I'm called upon to wear it. That's one of my problems with you, Academic Year 2009-10: you have been just about twenty-five percent too much of that kind of dress-up and show-up nonsense.
Academic Year 2009-2010, I feel I have satisfied your demands (except for the grades). I have the data and the documents. So this is me, blowing you a kiss goodbye. I am brushing the dust of you off my sandals, so to speak.
Academic Year 2009-2010, it's been swell. So long.