Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Jeremy says they taste like chicken.

 Dear Vic,

You know how you're really stressed out, and your clavicles are all achey and probably filled with killer toxins (probably in the marrow or maybe just coating the underside of the bones with a scum of angst and black mold), and you keep looking up from the teetering stack of student papers hoping that the tallest stack is the finished one, but it's not, and it NEVER IS?

And how you foolishly assigned your seniors a group project to design their own utopia (It's impossible!  That's the point!), conveniently forgetting how last year at this time this exact same assignment caused you to lose all faith in the human race, you again wanted to cry a little when one group announced you would be free to marry your brother in their society, but a parking ticket would earn you a permanent trip to a big, barren plot of land called "The Dirt" which offered no food, water, toilets, or shelter, and that your slow, torturous death would be televised on HBO as a deterrent to other parking offenders?

And how your freshmen this year have the collective IQ of  cottage cheese?

But they don't care, because HAHAHA, Jeremy just bit the head off a cockroach!  For REALS!!!    ?   And how you think that Jeremy, who weighs less than your forearm but is six feet tall, could use the protein to help support his bulbous, mohawk-sporting head?

And you know how you keep thinking about all your nice friends in blogland (who are all writing genius posts about chimps, and naked dinosaur weddings, and bicycles, and prom sex and more), who don't even know that you have recently met a big man who wrestles grizzly bears and lives in a castle, because you have to give a final exam soon that you haven't actually created yet and there's been no time to post?

And how you also wish you could  tell them that your neighbor, the Gazing Ball Man, has been targeted by a roving band of  international lawn flamingo thieves, and there were police involved?

Well. Chin up, little buckaroo.  Ibuprofen is on sale and soon this will all end for another year.  In a few days there will be margaritas, and joyous singing of freedom-oriented songs, and a blogpost worthy of your patient friends.

Get back to work.

Love,
Vic

PS.  The cats have rolled your red pen under the couch again.

24 comments:

Eric said...

Can't wait for the ibuprofen and margarita laced blogland dreams of Vic.

Wait, is that bad for your liver to do ibuprofen and alcohol at once? Better just skip to oxycontin and margaritas.

Ashley, The Accidental Olympian said...

It's sad but true, they're all just morons.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

I bet Jeremy the human forearm could give you a nice chimp hug. Maybe stick some Velcro on his palms, because then you're hands free, to drive or text or...apply anal gel or whatever...aaaannd this took a weird turn.

Blissed-Out Grandma said...

Oh, so sad, and I have no trouble believing any of it. Thank you for being a teacher...I hope at least a few of your students are rewarding to teach!

Kabbalah Rookie said...

Oh no, so the next generation are a bunch of morons with Cottage Cheese IQ?
So glad I'm not a teacher...

Wow, that was awkward said...

I love that you wrote yourself a letter. I should write myself too. Sometimes I miss me.

The Jules said...

I feel your pain, Vic.

Heh. I felt your pain. Felt it good.

Er . . .

Jules said...

At this point, just throw the papers into the recycling bin......

otherworldlyone said...

I hope you gave Jeremy a D for disgusting fucker. Ugh.

Cheers to your almost there break, Vic! Heads up! Margaritas at the ready.

Kurt said...

We wait patiently on, because the reward is infinitely gratifying.

That was almost poetic, huh?

(*scrapes cheetos dust out from under his fingernail, goes back to watching "Mama's Family"*)

kate said...

Man, if it were up to your sadistic little students, I would've rotted away on "The Dirt" island or whatever years ago. Just let them live alone in a downtown apartment with no parking lot after coming home from a 14-hour shift and not be able to find a parking space within two miles of your building before they change THAT utopian law and start parking in the fire lane, too, thankyouverymuch.

Logical Libby said...

My husband came home last night from his high school (teacher, not student) and said "the tide is turning ugly."

Then he just cried.

Megs said...

Bless you and good luck.

Also, I'm so glad you are a teacher because it means I don't have to be. Which means I don't have to fear the future because I can't see what's coming.

And also...oh god, he bit the head off a cock roach? All my skin slithered away when I read that. He'll probably be president some day.

Miss Yvonne said...

My son is a senior. Let me just go ahead and give you a collective apology from me and all the other senior parents out there.

We're sorry. So very. very. sorry.

FabuLeslie said...

Great great post. I can't wait for the margaritas! Also, I think I'll take an advil now.. get the party started a little early. I've got first graders and they are running around like little firecrackers on speed. Oh, and tomorrow's our field trip to the swimming party at the YMCA. 80 first graders, 4 teachers. Shouldn't be bad at all.

diane said...

Whoever thought of televising "The Dirt" is a genius. By today's standards.

Hang in there honey. At least your cats provide comic relief.

I miss you, just so you know.

HumorSmith said...

Vic, I wish I'd had you for a teacher.
Stumbled!!

just making my way said...

Was it a cooked cockroach? Because I once took my son to this library sponsored thing that I thought was about bugs but turned out to be about eating bugs.
And in the end we both ended up eating a bug. But there were no margaritas to wash it down.

Girl Interrupted said...

If only I'd had a teacher like you, Vic! I might have attended more lessons.

Maybe. As long as I didn't have to sit next to Jeremy.

Although, I really like you and I really like your blog ... so maybe I would've just done the kindest thing and skipped school like usual. And then read your posts telling the entire blogosphere about the ungrateful, unpromising slacker-brat who was too busy riding around in stolen cars with dubious characters called Clive to attend your well-prepared classes.

Yeah, I could've been postworthy.

Chelle said...

My sister had a student who ate two full tubes of toothpaste in her English class. He was in 11th grade. She had to call poison control and apologize to his parents for him being a dumbass. Because Vic, she was SUPPOSED to be curing that.

erin said...

I can't wait till it's summer and you can pay attention to ME and not your stupid students.

And I think you're not giving cottage cheese it's due. It seems like a pretty intelligent substance to me.

Cynthia L. H. said...

Hope you've been enjoying MANY well-deserved margaritas by now!!!
;^)

Miss Tinselly said...

Hi, I just stumbled upon your blog. Love it. Thanks for the laugh!

Carolyn...Online said...

If I thought it wasn't too late, and if I had your address, I would mail you a red pen on a string that you could wear around your neck and would never ever roll under the couch.