It was with a little bit of horror and little bit of envy that I read a headline this week about an eleven year old student who punched his teacher in the face breaking the teacher’s nose. Without reading any further I sort of paused and reflected on times in my life when I wanted to smack the teacher in the face.
Years ago when I was assigned to substitute teach a high school history class the head of the department warned me one particular student was no good, nothing but trouble, and to send him to the principal’s office. I was shocked, and a little frightened not knowing what to expect.
When class started I zeroed in on the “trouble” student but a wee little voice inside my teacher’s soul said to give him a chance. I then preceded to start a discussion on the New Deal and lo and behold he was the only student actively participating in the discussion. He was a nice kid, a delight. I felt a teacher/student connection.
Not five minutes later the head of the department came in and kicked the kid out of the class. I protested but as a substitute teacher my protest fell on deaf ears.
I wanted to beat the shit of that department head. He was hateful and mean and he humiliated the student.
I often think of that student and wonder what happened to him. Maybe he became a historian.
And then I remembered my tenth grade English teacher - Ms Romano - who loathed me as much as I loathed her. On numerous occasions she told me I was an absolutely horrible writer. I thought she was an absolutely horrible human being in desperate need of a flea dip.
If I had listened to that bitch Ms Romano you wouldn’t be reading my beautiful words of wisdom here today. Instead I’d be frightened of putting pen to paper and not living my dream. Well fuck her wherever she is, and I hope she’s in a place with a lot of heat.
Sometimes teachers need to be smacked.
I didn’t bother reading the rest of the article.
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