It’s early June, which means it’s time once again to look back at some of the more memorable moments from a year in the life at a public high school. Why anyone ever leaves this humor goldmine of a job is, like the art of teaching itself, beyond me.
While classic quotes make up most of this year’s greatest hits, some of the better moments involved few or no words at all. This year I saw:
A student spend an entire three hour state-testing session writing with his right hand while his left hand massaged his cock like a baker kneading his dough. His hand was so entrenched in his dirty blue sweatpants that he even used his writing hand to turn the pages of his test booklet. He offered me a piece of candy before he left. I politely declined the offer. I’m not sure if it was a sourball.
A young lady come to my honors English class every single day for the first four months of school. She was never sick. Then, after New Year’s she missed two weeks of school. When I asked if anyone knew what was wrong with her, a student casually informed that “she had her baby.” Yep, Mr. Observant, Mr. I Really Get to Know My Kids, didn’t even realize she was pregnant.
A first-year 40-something teacher fall asleep so hard at his desk during class that he stayed in Snoozeville through an entire change of classes. We, the teachers, found it rip-roaringly funny. That is, until he died in his sleep two weeks later. Apparently, he had unknown health problems. However, he was kept alive in our memories for weeks. Why? Our clueless guidance counselor kept calling his name over the P.A. for parent conferences. I’m assuming he didn’t show up.
Parent email addresses “barwench@…” and “trustnobitches@…” Maybe these two single parents (“No way – those two prizes are single?”) can meet up at the Skank Inn for some drinks and darts some night this summer, fuck, and have a child that grows up and has the email address: myparentswereclasslessidiots@…
A male track athlete get harshly scolded by a female teacher for throwing around a football while shirtless. The kid calmly picked up his shirt and put it on, then promptly removed his shorts and continued playing catch. I’m sure the two-day suspension was worth achieving legend status in the Ned Bitters Smartass Hall of Fame.
But some of the best humor came in the form of unintentional funny lines. Here is a sampling of the best accidental comedy from the past year:
As if being middle-aged isn’t depressing enough, the kids reinforce the fact that I am now much closer to my deathday than my birthday. One well meaning little bastard said, with complete sincerity, “Mr. Bitters, you look young … from far away.” Thanks, you myopic prick. Another girl scrunched up her face and said, with great concern for my appearance, “Do you got paint in your hair? Oh wait, it’s only a lot of gray. My bad.” Thanks, you myopic wench. And finally, another girl, trying to give me a compliment, said, “Sure, Mr. Hobart has the hotness factor, but you’ve got the funny factor.” I guess I’ll take ugly and funny over ugly and unfunny. Then I’d be Billy Crystal.
Next we have the borderline mentally retarded kid from the hardcore special ed class who had one of his similarly dimwitted classmates go ask a girl if she’d go out with him. The messenger came back with a negative reply, explaining, “She said no because she knows you still play with Transformers.” The poor bastard frowned and said, “Not that much!”
This same kid, while trying to talk smack about the rich rival high school that has all top-notch facilities, including a gorgeous artificial turf football field, said, without trying to be funny, “They ain’t all that. They so poor they can’t even afford real grass.” Zinger!
I had a hardcore thug from D.C. with a criminal past who came here to get the few remaining credits he needed for a diploma. He missed at least eight days of school due to court dates. One day, while doing some vocabulary work, he asked for a dictionary like this: “Hey, Mr. Bitters, can you give me a dic-dic?” I gave him my best gay look, and the entire class roared while I went and got him a dictionary. I dropped it on his desk and said, “Here Shareed, I got a nice fat one for you. Let me slap it on your desk. Now use it.” He didn’t kill me. Yet.
Even I am not immune from saying something unintentionally ridiculous. I have a kid who is real-deal crazy, disturbingly so. He was sent away for special help for a month this year after he told a psychologist that he was this close to harming himself and others in the school. He is an expert on mass murderer lore. He is obsessed with deviant sex acts. He once drew me a picture of decapitated woman with a man standing next to her holding an axe in his left hand. In his right hand? The woman’s head, her open mouth placed over his cock. This picture was drawn especially for me. So yes, he’s batshit nuts. One day before class, he went to my computer without my knowledge. My email was open. He read an email from a parent, then commented on it when I came into the room. How did this 21-year veteran teacher handle this invasion of privacy? Very calmly and with great maturity, of course. I yelled, “You read my email? Are you fucking crazy? I mean, are you totally fucking nuts?” He said, with zero emotion, “Yes. But you know that already.” Another kid’s self-esteem raised high high high!
Those were just a handful of some of the countless unintentionally funny moments from this year. Next week, in Part II of “Why Our Schools Come Up So Miserably Short in Global Education Studies,” we’ll go over some of the funny lines that were meant to be funny. That is, if that crazy sonofabitch email reader doesn’t kill me before then. The decapitation doesn’t scare me. It’s the thought of being forced to give a post-mortem hummer that terrifies me.
Ned Bitters teaches high school and dreams of one day seeing one of his former students on stage at a strip club. You can contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.