Working at an all-boys boarding school has its advantages. For starters, focusing on your craft and really becoming a better teacher is really easy to accomplish. A place void of any type of external stimulation will assureadly leave you immersed in whatever discipline to which you are inclined after all. Also, being where I am helps me to have a closer relationship with the students here. Simply put, some of the shit that comes out of these kids mouths would both astonish you and make your skin crawl. There definitely are some awful little pricks nancin' about here, but I've learned with time to be entertained by their monkeyshines instead of getting offended. You also have to realize that, while offensive to 99% of the outside world, calling some kid a "miserable faggy c*nt" is just par for the course here. What other way do adolescent boys have to establish dominance at an all-boys school (other than kickin' somebody's ass) than callin' somebody awful names. It just happens.
However this proves to be a bit trying at times, and schools like ours give us an outlet to branch out a bit as young faculty. They set up these things called "Young Faculty Mixers" that we all like to attend. Let me give you the rundown as to how these things work:
These mixers are usually held at the headmaster's really nice house with a lot of expensive beers for me and my homies to slug down for free while attempting to be social outside of our school environment. Seems like a good deal right? You're saying to yourself, "Wouldn't you have a great time at something like that? You get to meet people just like you with similar interests yadda yadda yadda." And while all that is true, let me first tell you some stories.
The first mixer we had was at another school, and for some reason they decided to hold it in a yoga/pilates themed exercise room. There was a lot of space and a really kick-ass bar that had been set up. However, working at an all-boys school has me working with a predominantly male faculty. So what do we do? We show up three cars deep, about fourteen guys in all. We're the first ones there (by a lot) and the last ones to leave at the end of the night (by a lot). Awesome. When we show up, me and one of my buddies make our way over to the bar to say hello and mix us up something nice, only to find that the other dozen knuckleheads we came with are all huddled around the collapsible table that has been set up and they are now converting that into a beirut table. No bullshit, this is thirty seconds after our arrival. We did not stop at merely looking like complete gorillas though. Later on in the night, a colleague of mine punted a full-size exercise ball into the face of some poor bastard enjoying some mixed drink. Priceless.
Also, while you go to young faculty mixers to meet people outside of your school and kind of get a chance to be a twenty-something for once, one thing inevitably always happens. You'll introduce yourself to somebody standing next to you at the refrigerator out of sheer politeness. The two of you will go through where both of you work, what you teach, what you coach, so on and so forth. You'd think after that you'd get some information of where this other person comes from, what they do in his or her spare time, mabye get a phone number and a "let's get a drink sometime." You'd think that, and then you'd be severely dissapointed because the conversation ALWAYS goes in one direction...kids.
I like kids. I like being a teacher, but that's not all I like to talk about. I don't care what little Timmy did in class that got you so mad today. I don't know the kid and chances are I never will. I'm not interested and you're not interesting. End of conversation. I'm looking around the party and I'm desperate to find one human being in this place and I can't find any, which leads me to question, "I shaved my balls for this? Did I actually think I'd meet somebody here worth talking to?" I grew up thinking that all high school teachers were losers, and it turns out I was right. Now I can hear you asking whether or not I would rather just sit at home and have a pecker-party with all the dudes I work with, and the answer is yes. At least if I'm doing that I know somebody is going to say something funny or at least fart so I can get a cheap laugh. Here is an actual transcript of a conversation I had with one of these social misfits. At one point during the night, an impromptu dance party broke out. Now when I say dance party, I mean two Salisbury guys heard music, and started dancing really closely to this girl who we know came with several female friends, none of them attractive. I approach this young lady and say in jest:
Me: Hahaha, you should probably go find your friends, because I don't think you wanna be stuck between these two assholes all night.
Her: ...
Me: I'm just messin' with you, hun. They're just trying to have fun.
Her: I don't find you funny at all...
Seriously, this is what I deal with. People without any kind of wherewithal to understand when I am joking around. Not to mention that if I were in Nashua, this girl wouldn't get the time of day from The General at the Garden, let alone me or any of my friends. You all know me, you know I'm a pretty jovial guy who likes to fuck with people, lighten the fuck up, will ya? The highlight of my night came afterwards though when the headmaster of the school we were partying at, whose house we were in at this particular meeting of the minds, asked me "What do the young girls like taking shots of?" Now here's a guy who has got this figured out. Have the party in your house, come in late cocked off your ass, and feed shots to the young teacher-girls. My hero.
What I want you to take away from this is please be happy wherever you are that you get to socialize with people who have lives. People who can tell you a story about their day that doesn't involve little Timmy or little Susan. Please be happy that you can talk to people that for all intents and purposes have souls. Tonight's a Friday night. I hope you're all going out tonight and getting somebody's number if you're single, or at least you're listening to something interesting that somebody is saying. I'll be here, writing a blog in my classroom in the middle of making up exams that I have to give at 7:30 am on a Saturday.
You wish you had my job.
XOXO,
Ron
No comments:
Post a Comment