What Teachers Wish They Could Say To Their Students

Fuck you.

Yep, that's the first thing. Okay, if you want to read some altruistic frou-frou that dehumanizes teachers into some bottomless pit of joy, then go somewhere else. At this time of the year when you are drained of energy, patience, and the ability to smile, that joy that school boards, administrators, parents, trustees, and everyone else depends on-- because if it's not there then folks get nervous that the savages may rebel; that the savages may not stand for the pittance of a salary and the lack of respect by an entire nation, let alone the students in the classroom-- at this time of the year teachers wish we could just tell you what we think.

Well, here goes.

Dako-- You're an idiot. An absolute idiot. Who the hell do you think you are to tell me "It seems you are in the teaching profession for the wrong reasons, as this could be expected from any teacher who genuinely cares for the success of their students." What are the 'wrong reasons' genius? Great pay for my education level? Respect from my students? Mature behavior on the part of my students? Tell me why I got into teaching. Because if it's about seeing the proverbial 'light bulb' go off, I surely missed the boat with you. Next time you get the daylights kicked out of you and you come to my class with the attitude that you should be treated better than your peers who didn't battle their friends for fun the night before a huge assignment was due... well, next time, I hope you get your clocked cleaned thoroughly. Your dumbass deserves it.

Jemo-- Are you kidding me? You're going to sit in the final exam and complain about the grade I'm "giving" you? I don't give grade-- you earn them. It's not just smoke I'm blowing here. It's legit. The fact that you're even passing with a month of absences in the grade book is amazing. I thought you were kind of bright. I don't anymore.

Rawe-- Quit your whining. Oh my gosh! I don't even like you any more. Your incessant complaining is tiresome and I don't want to hear another word coming from your spoiled self. Do not come to me asking for advice any more. You don't listen to me when I give you advice, so why should I care? You and your pals take and take and take and take and take and take and take from. "Why aren't you around?" you whimper. Because I can't take it. I'm about to break and no one around her gives a damn, is what I want to scream in your bloated, binge-drinking face.

Jiri-- SHUT UP! You may very well be the most annoying student I've ever had. And, hell's bells if that doesn't say a lot.

Miar-- You too-- shut up! No one cares what you have to say. You talk, talk, talk, talk about nothing all class period. You're not that clever or interesting.

Samc-- You're such a joke. You're not charming, cute, bright, or anything that would explain the arrogance with which you carry yourself. And I scare you to death huh? Must be because you know that I see through the facade. You can't talk your way out of 'it' with me and I'm going to hold you accountable for your poor performance and diminished intellect.

Magr-- You're just not that talented. You're okay. But the sooner you start living the life of an adult, the better off you'll be. Grow up and stop whining. When you do, I think you'll be a pretty cool person.


And to those teachers out there shocked and dismayed and disgusted by all of this: reread the first sentence. You don't know me. Better yet, you do know me. You know all too well, but you know that if you admit that the levee has a crack, that the flood waters will come too soon. Instead, you wait and absorb the insults the too-little, too-faint praise and wear a mask of plastic insincerity. Pat your merry self on the back and get away from me. You're more destructive than I am on my worst day.

Let me teach you this

We had an unusual start-- I was your teacher. I was a grad assistant who thought she knew everything and you were a reformed slacker. We hit it off. You told me that getting to perform on stage was one of the greatest moments in your life. I remember you bringing me flowers for my one-woman show. Who knew we would become such good friends.

That was then.

Let me go back to our previous roles of teacher-student to let you know that you don't treat people this way. Don't be a dick. If this is the way you treat your best friends, according to you, then you are fucked. Shame on you. F for friendship. Sub-par work on every level. You need to re-enroll because you won't be getting credit. Be certain that when you call me on my birthday, a year since we last talked, I won't be picking up. You won't notice, because you're too stupid to. And better yet, if your girlfriend gets sick of your tiresome ways and you start to call again in earnest, I won't be picking up. When did you get so sleazy?

Ick.

Good luck in the future. Your sorry ass is going to need it.

Why I Love Glee: Or, My Dear John Letter to The Office

Dear The Office,

I never imagined that I would have to write a letter like this. We have had our bumpy times-- like first watching the British you the summer my father died and wondering what all the fuss was about; Hearing there would be an American version of you and cringing; Watching the first season of you as an American and resolving to never watch again. Like most immature things, I got over it and fell for you. I didn't want to do it. I truly didn't. I had other things to do-- like writing a dissertation, finding a job, not killing inept colleagues-- the normal run-of-the-mill things that makes normal life boring and pedestrian.

I fell in love with you Office. When I realized what had happened, well, I was ill-prepared for the consequences. I didn't know my heart could love so much. I loved Michael's idiotic hatred of Toby and that a big girl like Phyllis could find love with Bob Vance of Bob Vance Refrigeration. I adored beets as only procured by Shrute Farms. There was a particular friendship that I envied. And then that friendship turned into love and my envy blossomed in the sweetest possible way. My heart soared at the dulcet tones of Hunter's band and the relationship bulding advice that "You can get new things, but you can't get a new party." And what to do with Holly and Kevin. Her generous encouragement that "You can get anything on the top row," reminds us all that life is about having the correct amount of change.

Something happened. I'm not proud of myself. I've always considered myself a faithful person. Sure, have I peeked at other shows? I'm human aren't I? I admit it... Pushing Daisies was so nice to me, I just found myself spending more time with it. I flirted with True Blood and Big Love-- but nothing ever happened. Nothing. I swear!

Look, something happened back in May. I just planned on watching some TV one night. No big deal. I don't know how to say it, but I'm really confused and think I need a permanent break from us. Just listen to me-- don't freak out. I just... well... I'm in love. I just know it. I'm in love. With Glee.

I love you. I do. But it's a different kind of love with Glee. I had no idea it could be this way, but all I want is to spend time with Glee. In the morning I think of Glee. When students come to my office hours, in my head I'm thinking about what day it is and how long until I can get home to listen to music Glee gave me or how long until I can watch the latest video Glee posted on YouTube. I know that it's not healthy to be so tied to one show, but it's really more about me wanting to be there for Glee. Now that we've found one another I know that neither of us wants to let go.

I don't want you to think that you've done anything wrong. You've been there for me. Even when we had a mini-break because of the strike, we were faithful to one another. We knew we would be back with each other before too long. And we were. And it was amazing. I don't think we were ever better actually. And then Glee showed up. I wasn't looking for anything new. Really.

I love Glee so much. Glee is so good to me. And good for me. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel like I'm opening myself up to joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. We're not perfect, but Glee makes me want to be a better person. Glee reminds me what it is like to sing with unfettered emotion; to dance around my bedroom singing and believing that there is someone out there for me. Being with Glee is like being in a car in the summertime with the windows down and your best friend beside you. Both of you are smiling and laughing and loving the act of living. Whether it was Journey or The Cure on the mix tape, all that you knew was that this was the way life was supposed to be-- forever.

I know that Glee will take good care of me. Finn, in particular, is a good person and he will treat me with only the utmost respect. I see us being together for the rest of our lives, Finn and I. I know it's far too soon to expect anything from you, but I want us to be friends. I do. You've been a part of my life for so long, that the thought of never having you in my life again... well, it devastates me. Maybe one day (maybe?) we can all hang out together and then you'll see how amazing Glee is.

I will always love our time together Office. I'll never forget you.

Love-
A.

I want you to want me

As I was talking to my friend this afternoon our lives and their trajectories and traverses became a bit too painful to plot and follow. He described having a rendezvous with a gorgeous man this morning... while I was buying resume paper and envelopes at Staples. As he touched this man, I was buying grapes at Sam's Club. And tonight? As he connects with beauty and sexuality and desire, I'll be working on said resumes and envelopes.

I explained my fear at not being able to get another job. "I'm a bit fearful about being wanted," or something of the sort left my lips. And my cells got a bit heavier, because I realized that that wanting pertains to every area of my life. I have noone to want me in a beauteous, sexual, or desirous way, let alone in a very practical, gainful employment kind of way.

I simply want to be wanted with the fierceness of my own wants.

Man from the Future

I took a bit of a nap this afternoon. And in doing so, I choose to believe I saw my future. I dreamed that he was there. He came in with our son and daughter and saw me sleeping. He wished he could've been ahead of our son, who was running in tearing his coat off. I roused out of the sleep-state and he held our daughter over me so that we could kiss one another hello. He took my iPod and headphones from me, taking care of me. As I woke and joined my family, we convened in the kitchen where we danced to Nikka Costa's "Till I Get to You." He and I bumped our hips-- his left, my right-- together as he kept holding our daughter on his right hip. Our son and I danced to the right of him. He was wearing a white shirt with tie. I was casual clothes fit for a nap.

It was vivid. And I believe it was a peek at the future.

I told God a few days ago that I was truly ready to find love. I've never believed that before, and I've certainly never made such an affirmative statement.

Ever since, I've been claiming these visions of the future. No mocking is necessary, my heart confirms.

Did I tell you how happy we were? The four of us? And what a good father he is? And how much we all love one another?

We were/are.

George Sodini didn't succeed

I, along with much of the nation, was disturbed by the news that 3 people were killed yesterday at a suburban Pittsburgh fitness club. A friend joked that the shooting was even further proof why one should never go to the gym-- trying to digest the illogical.

This morning as officials try to make more sense of the tragedy comes the release of his website where he chillingly revealed the fragmented darkness that led to the shooting. One thing is clear-- he was filled with hate. From women to blacks to religious figures to his entire family. It is disturbing. At the bottom of the website is his set of 'instructions' for the site, including a statement that the site should stay up forever so that he is remembered.

As I read his words I couldn't help but thing of a news report I heard in the wee hours of the morning. Supposedly Sodini fired 52 rounds of ammunition into the darkened fitness classroom. He killed 3 women and injured at least 9. I refuse to give him the credit he so craved, so desired. I'm not sorry George to tell you that you're a lousy shot. I refuse to give you the attention to wanted so crazily. I refuse. Consider me one of those 'bitches' or 'hoez' you described in your blog. You did not frighten me, and I plan on forgetting you as soon as possible so that you're sick plan for immortality fails too.

"Twilight" angst

I did it. I broke down and rented Twilight. If you've been living under a rock for the past year and don't know what I'm referring to, then let me explain. Twilight , in this case, refers to the film adapted from the book bearing the same name by Stephanie Meyer, a Mormon mom from Arizona. Her series of four books revolves around a teenage love story between vampire Edward and human Bella. Yep. That pretty much explains my conundrum. I actually allowed myself to watch a film about that.

Snarl. (I would usually say "Ugh" or "Sigh" here, but in trying to harness the energy of vampires and werewolves, I'm choosing to "snarl.")

So I watched and I can't stop thinking about it. I am utterly befuddled and perplexed that that would be the phenomenon it is. USA Today is writing about how Meyer's books are phenoms to be noted. Whatever. I fully admit that I've not read the books. Had no desire. Still don't. But I guess in my quest to figure out how in the hell Twilight has come to rule the popular culture universe, I'd better give them a twirl.

Part of my angst about giving into Twilight was simply about vampires. Not a big fan. Never have been. I thought that the film Interview with a Vampire was disgusting. I remember returning the video (video, not DVD) and telling the clerk how awful it was. He asked why, and I explained that I had no desire to listen to LeStat slurp his phlebotomous meal. I certainly wasn't looking forward to watching teen vampires at all. Well, I shouldn't have worried because the kitsch and camp and cheese of Twilight surpassed the drama and seriousness of the older film.

Let me start with Kristen Stewart who plays Bella Swan. (Yes, that's the character's name. I know.) I get it Kristen. I get it. You're working hard, hard to show us how much angst Bella is in. Yes, please hold your cell phone 6 inches away from your head once Edward appears. You're depth perception is off and your muscles go limp as his presence. Just like in the photo above. You do listless really well. Now what is interesting about that photo is that your mouth is closed while Robert Pattinson, who plays Edward Cullen, has his open. That's pretty much a reversal for the film. You're mouth constantly gaps open in that teenage-angsty way. You are just too non-chalant to close it. It's like a subtle middle-finger to adults. "See, look at me. I'm so cool, I'm giving you a droopy bottom lip." The reason I chose that photo was because it did capture your general blase demeanor. It says to me, "Yeah, I may be about to fly through the Washington forest on the back of my vampire boyfriend, but I'm cool. No big deal."

I must address the dialogue in the film. No I don't. I won't spend the time. I'll just give the lamest lines, in my humble opinion. Choice #1: "You're like my own personal brand of heroin." Choice #2: Hold on, spider monkey." My nephew explained it best when he said, "Well, they didn't read as lame as they sounded [in the movie]."

No rant about Twilight would be complete without discussing the heartthrob-mania-inducing that is Robert Pattinson. He's handsome. No doubt about it. He passes the "I'd do him" test. But holy goodness... I get it! You're tormented by how much you want Bella. I get the inner turmoil. Seriously... it was painful to watch in places. But I forgive you because of those few moments like the kiss. That was some good shit. I forgive you because of that stern "You're my life now," to Bella as you head off to track some bad vampire. I know that I'm asking you to make steak out of hamburger, but seriously, when did cinematic teenage brooding become so painful to watch? I don't know, but I'm sure I'll see more of it in November when New Moon comes to theaters.

Ultimately, my angst about Twilight comes as a result of my strongly held belief in right and wrong. It seems so utterly criminal to me that this is what holds the imagination of teenaged and middle-aged (quelle horreur!) females. Where is the Barbara Kingsolver in their libraries? Margaret Atwood? Toni Morrison? Isabel Allende? If they're not in the library, they're surely not in the movie theater. It says something that some of the very best storytelling in the last two years has come from the folks at Pixar. I admit it. I'm jealous. Jealous as hell that Meyer is the rich bitch she is because of this junk. I'm jealous that I didn't have a vampire boyfriend in high school that looked that good in a black suit and/or pea jacket. It feels wrong that I'm jealous.

Or maybe it's just the lack of oxygen in the cultural air that makes me feel so dizzy.