Teacher Appreciation--Rainbow Style

So this weekend was the Gay Pride Parade in my town. Now let me say that I am not gay, nor proud, but I do hang out under freeways on occasion, so I had the opportunity to...well...get in the way of this weekend's events.

As I leaned against the traffic light and watched the colorful passing of partners, I spotted Nathan.

From seventh period.

And he spotted me.

"Heeeeeyyyyy, Mr. HT! Over heeeerrre!" he yelled. I just froze. Nathan was, you know, all dressed up. Now don't get me wrong; to each his own, but he was screaming my name across a crowded street and then he yelled, "Hey everyone, Mr. HT was my English teacher last year!"

My heart sunk. Everyone turned to look at me. And then they did something I never expected.

They clapped.

Ribbons of all colors and bright boas everywhere waving in the air. All for Nathan's teacher.

Had it come to this? That the most appreciation that I had ever had stemmed from the misunderstanding of me being gay? Well, I don't care because I loved it. I needed the cheers. I needed the applause. I even needed the, "You go Queenie!" People usually cringe or give you that "I'm so sorry" shake of the head when they hear that you are a teacher. These guys celebrated who I was! Sure these kudos came on a technicality, but I'll take what I can get.

Of course I may need a few days to process the whole thing. I'm still not sure how I should take that one guy saying, "If he was my teacher, then I would have never graduated! Ta-Dow!"

Talk about your backfires...

Leave it to kids to ruin the greatest invention ever. It certainly brings a new meaning to teaching not being a "young person's game."

I wouldn't be surprised if the administration puts dogs in our rooms to alert us that the frequency being used. You know what I'm talking about. We would be like miners from back in the day that took canaries down the shafts with them to make sure there was enough oxygen.

Wait a second... now I can tell the kids that my dog ate their homework.

Things were better when I only had to deal with the pseudo-sincerity of Teacher Appreciation Day.

We teachers always take insult to those outside of the world of education who "envy" teachers for getting off work before 5:00pm and having summers off. Unfortunately, some of the pity that we get can be just as insulting. Take yesterday for example. I was sitting on a park bench (taking a breather between dumpster dives) when I overheard a conversation between two men on the next bench.

Man 1: Ya' know, I hear the teachers are pushing for a pay raise. They say they may strike if they don't get it. Something to do with the cost of living or something.

Man 2: People in hell want ice water! Teachers are always wanting something, aren't they? I don't get it. They work six months outta' the year, practically get off at noon, and all they have to do is babysit some kids. And now they want more money for that?

Man 1: Yeah. It's crazy!

Man 2: You know, in all my years of school, I never had one teacher do anything for me. Don't get me wrong. Some of them were nice enough--like they would believe me when I lied about why I didn't have my homework, but they never taught me nothin'. Nothin'!

Man 1: Yeah. I hated school! Why would anyone choose to spend the rest of their lives in a place like that? My kid is always getting in trouble there.

Man 2: (shaking his head, reaching for some reason in this topsy-turvy world) Makes no sense. (turning his attention to the present) Hey, I guess we better get back to work. It's been over an hour, huh?

Man 1: (as the two are walking off) Hey, are you going to use the corporate seats for the game?

Man 2: Nah, I'm going to work some overtime this weekend. I'm wanting to put a 2nd plasma in the bedroom.

Is that really how the world sees teachers? Spoiled, overpaid babysitters who never did nothing for nobody? Have we done that bad a job at getting the word out that it's not all Dead Poets? Don't they know that we don't get time and a half for staying up until 1:00am, trying to figure out how to make graphing equations relevant to a bunch of 13 year olds or grading the last of the 175 foreign language essays from a bunch a kids who have no interest except to meet the requirements for graduating?

On the flip side, you don't need to act like someone who wants to take care of your child has a lust for self-destructive behavior either. When I tell people what I do for a living, they react like I just confessed to being a cutter.

As the two gentlemen walked away, I wanted to run after those guys and punch them in the throat for bad-mouthing my profession. Shoot, I should have ran after those guys and asked them for an application. I want a job where I could enjoy hour and a half lunches in the park with no real urgency to get back, no bells, nothing.

Wonder if they're hiring.

In Your Face!

As I've stated before, summer is great because it's Hobo Teacher time. And like most summers I find myself drawn to the bookstore. Those places have certainly changed. At these mega stores, selling book seems to be the last thing done. People are encouraged to lounge/study/visit there for hours in big comfy chairs without buying a thing as the in-store cafe constantly doles out free samples. If they had a wash and fold service, then I would never leave. But that's not why I'm writing.

I'm really writing because I ran into one of my former students in the forementioned cafe. She graduated a year early, so I had her last semester. It was strange to see her. It wasn't because I like to think that I'm only obligated to student exposure 45 minutes at a time, during weekdays, only 9 months of the year, but because she looked so different. She--she--she didn't look like a hoochie anymore.

Like I said, she just graduated a month ago and during that entire time in my class I had to deal with her being out of the school's dress code. She spent so much time in the office that I started sending her work down there--ahead of time.

I don't know why she wasn't in her normal "my pimp needs his money" attire this time. Perhaps her exodus from high school spawned a new maturity that reined in her priorities. Perhaps she is following the "students are cats" theory (cats know to do exactly what you don't want them to do) and has no reason to dress that way anymore. Who knows?

Again that's not really why I'm writing.

I want to talk about what she said to me. After finding out that she started taking classes at the local community college, so that she would have some hours under her belt for the Fall, she told me that I was right. Read that again--I was right! "Right about what?" you ask? Oh, I'm right about tons of stuff, but she was specifically referring to my response to students who expressed that I pushed them too hard by saying, "This isn't college."

I would always tell them that they were right. They were right because college would chew them up and spit them out. That in college you don't get 10 absences for each class, each semester, let alone 21 tardies. You lose points is what you get. You don't get make-up time in college. You get zeros. You don't have me, a teacher that stays hours after school to help you with your work, but a professor with set office hours--and it's not for free tutoring. In college, you write more for one class than you ever have in your entire life to that point.

Really, the last people that need to be reminded that high school is not college are the high school teachers. Am I right people?

After this former pupil confirmed that I was indeed right, she thanked me. She told me that after the first week of summer class, she realized that all that "really hard stuff" that I had them doing in my class was somewhat geared towards the college environment; and that even though it wasn't nearly as tough as the real thing, she is coping much better than the other first year students.

That's when I shouted, "That's right!" and flung my sample cup of piping hot triple mocha swissberry in her face. Then I pushed over a spinning rack of romance novels, grabbed the nearest waitress and kissed like a sailor in Time Square who had learned that the war was over.

Actually that all happened in my imagination. What I really did was thank her for the compliment and asked her if she was going to finish her banana nut muffin.