It Is Possible To Be That Dumb

Currently reading: "Lethal Legacy" by Linda Fairstein

There is an assignment for AP English this month to read a non-fiction book. That's it. That's the whole assignment. Just pick a non-fiction book out of the millions or so that exist and read it.
We've had a few students come in over the past few days and ask for help finding a non-fiction book. I start by asking what kind of fiction they like to read or what kind of TV shows they like to watch to sort of get a feel for what kind of non-fiction book would be appealing.
Today, a student came in needing help, and somehow we ended up in a Who's On First sort of loop where I said non-fiction and she would say no it CAN'T be fiction and I was like right I understand a book that is true, a non-fiction book and she'd say but it can't be fiction. Then I punched her in the head. No wait. I wanted to though. She was really not with it. At all. For an AP English student, she was really clueless.
I asked her if she read fiction and she said yes. I asked her what kind of fiction she read and she said nothing. Not that she was silent, she literally said Nothing, as if that was a type of fiction.
She also kept saying her non-fiction book had to have things written in the back, that someone had told her "good" non-fiction books had things written in the back. Those "things" were later determined to be an index.
Seriously? She had no clue.
The curious part was that she had somehow managed to find the one book that is sort of non-fiction, sort of fiction: "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Apparently, she brought that one in first and her teacher said it didn't count because it was fiction. It had a non-fiction call number on it, so that was very confusing for her. I think life is very confusing for her. She was really set on a drug addiction book. She said she had tried "Sybil" and she didn't like it because she felt like she was invading the writer's head and she felt like that was rude. She didn't want to be inside someone's head. She isn't even in her own head, so maybe it was a good idea for her to not wander around other people's heads too much.
Anyway, she finally ended up with some book about therapists who have sex with their clients. It took at least 25 minutes to make that magic happen.
The time spent would have been fine, except I was alone on the desk, and people had started lining up somewhere during the 17th book I presented for her approval and the 40th.
It's hard out here for a pimp.