| Between Classes |
| Jolly Ole Saint Nick....hits the classroom! |
| by Randy Wm. Clark |
| Teacher needs to be nice to cash in on Christmas gifts! |
I can feel it already. It's December. Snow is upon the ground outside and inside kids are showing up at school with those damn obnoxious Santa hats. It's not like the kids themselves aren't bad enough. I have to put up with those hats that blink, flop from side to side, have bells on them, play music and even are leopard print. It's holiday time in school.
At last count, I had seventy kids in my four academic classes. That means that one half of them will be plopping some sort of gift on my desk during the next few weeks. Thirty-five freekin' fruit cakes, banana breads, mugs with cocoa and ties I hate. Why not give me what I really want. Take a day off from school. Catch something, not too life threatening, that will keep Mommies little meatball home for a week in bed. Money is always great. Sneaking in alcohol to school is risky. I don't see any reason why it couldn't be left in the back of my truck in the faculty parking lot. I really like tequila.
Tim's parents are loaded. Filthy rich. I plot his death each and every period of the day. Mom always seems to choose some wonderful present at Christmas that is expensive; I love and fits me to a T. Last year it was an hour session for a professional massage. The year before that a gift certificate at a local Italian Restaurant. This year I can only imagine. Bahamas, tires for the truck, a date with his mom? So, I have to be extra special to Tim. I'll have to put up with his crap, pranks and mouth. It's all in the name of a great gift just before vacation. Detention, his name upon the board or a verbal warning may cancel the possibility of the greatest teacher's gift ever. A chance I'm not willing to take.
And then there's Desi. She's the sweetest little thing ever to grace the halls of junior high school. Her homework is always complete, she has yet to create a disturbance in class and she even laughs at my jokes. Her problem? That would have to be her taste in Christmas gifts. Last year I got one of those Chia Pets. What the Hell am I suppose to do with a Scooby Doo head sprouting pansies or some damn vegetation? My pet rock died in the 70's.
Desi asked me every day how it was doing. I didn't have the heart to tell her it went directly in my yard sale box for a quarter. This year I'm dropping suggestive hints to her. "All of the kids have those MP3 player things with awful music on them. Boy, would Mr. Clark love one of those." I could download hundreds of disco songs and listen to them all day long. Part of the deal could even be for Desi to show me how to download and operate one. At progress report time I even added a personal message to her larger than life mother / beached whale ... "Desi is doing wonderful work in Geography. She'd do so much better if I had one of those IPod music things."
And don't think I was born yesterday. I know there's conspiracy here. The Principal from Hell tells me each and every day I need to get up from my desk and walk around the room from time to time. Like I wanna do that! I'm perfectly happy in that high-back, black leather chair. It leans back just far enough for me to prop my feet on my desk. Up close and personal, face to face interaction with little junior high pukes isn't high on my priority list. So, she suggests exercise and student interaction for me and
then tells kids and parents to bring me fudge, bon bons, bundt cakes and boxes of chocolates by the pound. How can I possibly be expected to do much at all if I have to grease myself down just to fit in the chair? I'm damned if I do....damned if I don't.
Do you suppose Tim's mom might foot the bill for one of those teacher gastric bypass things?
Randy Wm. Clark is an educator in Maine
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