Martin was the lead hand at the TEL Centre at FEUT, I worked there as whatever the opposite of lead hand is. But his observations were dead on. I thanked him by stealing his nickname for my XBOX gamer tag.
These people all became teachers, or had you noticed?
The Ding Bat
The terminally lost. Those, without clue, and without hope. They stagger blindly between the humming rows of machines, cursing their inscrutability. These often fall by the wayside, like the parable of the mustard seed and barren soil. These of the four are the most fortunate for they may eventually reach real life, leaving all this behind as merely a bad dream.
The Wing Nut
Lost, clueless, but sustained on hope. Like the damned in Hades chasing banners eternaly in the vestibule of Hell, they pursue vain, impossible dreams. They long for novelty and harbour the secret knowledge that what others have abandoned is by default valuable for its obscurity.
The Push Pin
The know what they want, and they want it now - and every five minutes thereafter. They for about whom which the world is confortably emplaced, and there it rotates. Armed with hope, self importance, and just enough awareness of the outside world to know that there are yet still people whom they are more important than.
The Slathering Horror
Like Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos, the Ididiot God that pulsates at the heart of the universe, these posess so little awareness of the outside world, and such ineffectual tools for enhancing that awareness, they manage to avoid being considered autistic only through their fervent efforts to sate their wild desires. They manage the difficult feat of being able to communicate their desires to people who can satisfy them, while still being unaware of the presence of said votaries. A hazard, and wont to consume those who come too close, they are best treated with heavy firepower and ample Elder Signs. Luckily they are easily observed from a distance - their mouths open and gasping, their arms pinwheeling, fingers grasping.