When my brother passed away, I definitely missed class for a few days, as nothing fucking mattered. I wasn’t able to sleep or eat. When I was told what happened, I just started screaming over and over. It was so much that I hurt my vocal cords and got an infection. So I just tried to get stable enough to come back to class. At that point, I came with a Doctor’s (my therapist’s) note, like you are supposed to do. My teacher at the time snatched my note from my hand but didn’t even look at it or let me say what it was. Then he said, in front of my entire class, that he “didn’t care what was going on in my life. If I was a professional, I would have done my work and come to class.” Another prof I was closer too was standing right there too and her eyes got wide and pained as she watched me. She later asked if I was okay, since she knew I had just lost my brother in am accident and then saw that other prof “roast me,” or whatever. I lost all respect for that guy, “professional” or not. I had been so excited to take his class to...Intro to 3D Animation and I had been doing pretty good in there. Maybe he was doing a tough love act but it was an awful time. I still love animation and practice modeling sometimes too...but I couldn’t take it after that. I dropped out of there and found a good job as a graphic designer. I’m professional enough to get my work done on a normal day and even in times of production crises but I’m not a goddamn robot.