Former students

Even though I just wrapped up my 19th year at this job, I am still considered one of those "cool" teachers. The Official Dictionary of Professional Teacher Lingo defines "cool" as: Laughably inept ... able to hide one's criminal incompetence through good jokes, bad jokes and self-deprecation ... able to entertain students with long, slightly embellished stories from one's past in order to avoid actually teaching ... able to have actual conversations with students without being condescending ... incurably immature ... willing to give undeserved grades so as to avoid dealing with angry parents ... having the ability to listen to a student's tales about a weekend drinking binge and, instead of lecturing the student on the dangers of binge drinking, asks what kind of beer and liquor he drank and how he handled his hangover ... creating the illusion of wit through dick jokes and different accents (see: Williams, Robin) ... and basically acting like a tool all day.

Being this type of cool teacher can have its perks, which I described in a previous column. How many uncool (read: real) teachers get handed a free bag of weed in a bar by a former student? However, being a cool teacher can have its drawbacks, one of which is the many hours of one's life that get pissed away while trapped in energy-sapping conversations with former students whom you run into in public.

It seems I can't go out within 10 miles of my house without hearing at least one "Hey Mr. Bitters!" screamed across a parking lot, a mall or the stage of a strip club. Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that former students still want my attention and are eager to talk to me years after they leave school. It's always flattering. But sometimes it can be, well, a bit tedious. It all depends on the kid.

Some students I recognize immediately, and the rapport is exactly the same as it was when he or she was a student. I instantly remember the face and the name, and off we go, running our mouths and laughing and getting updated on each other's lives. Sometimes I know I astound them with the details I remember about their lives. (How is your dad's plumbing business? You still driving that Jeep? Did you brother beat that rape charge? Is your mom still sucking off teachers to get your little sister's grade bumped up to a C? Oh yeah? Well, tell her I would have raised it anyway, but thanks all the same.) I could talk to these students all day and enjoy the experience. I have actually made plans to meet former students at bars, been invited to weddings and picnics and even gone to hockey games with one guy whom I now consider a friend instead of a former student.

One time a meeting with former student even moved me to tears. A girl I had 10 years prior chased me down in a mall parking lot in her car. As I leaned over her window to talk, I couldn't help notice her tanned, toned legs as she told me that she was now teaching aerobics. She also told me she was single. She told me where she lived and wrote down her phone number, even though I asked for none of that information. She insisted I call her and drove away. She wanted the two of us to "get together." Newly married, I threw away the number as I entered the mall, but not before wiping my eyes with it first. Moved to tears, indeed. In fact, I'm ready to cry all over again right now just remembering that moment of epic bad timing.

Sometimes I'll recognize someone before they recognize me, and if it is someone I know I would enjoy talking to, I'll initiate the contact. One time, I was finally able to convince a Ruby Tuesday's bartender to deliver a drink to a former student with the message, "A guy over there said he wanted to buy this drink for the fag sitting at the end of the bar." Oh, settle down, I'm no homophobe. I just knew this was one guy who wouldn't like being called a fag. Oh, he DID offer to blow me that night, but being straight - and since I was drinking only beer instead of whiskey - I easily declined the offer.

However, more often than not, these meetings turn from fun and flattering to "Oh my God, this conversation has gone on for 10 minutes, which is about eight minutes too long." Let me give a description of how these meetings usually transpire. Well, the painful ones, anyway.

First there's the awkwardness of not remembering the student. Sometimes I'll remember the face, sometimes not. Rarely will I remember the name. So I do this finely honed routine in which I pretend that the name is juuuuuuust on the tip of my tongue but, damn it to hell, I just can't seem to recall it. I'll scrunch my brow and say, "Give me minute. Oh man ... I remember you, but I just can't pull up your name. Hold on, I'll remember it!" At this point, they'll tell me their names, and I always give the big "Ohhhh yeahhhhh!" as if I was just about to spit it out. Of course, I'll often have absolutely no memory of the kid, since cannabis and alcohol have perpetrated a holocaust on my brain cells over the years. (Speaking of holocausts, that Hitler was a piker. Six million Jews? Shit, I crematoried six million brain cells in the last week of May alone.) However, I'll act like that kid was one of my all-time favorites and smile like a Bengals fan hearing about Big Ben Roethlisberger's motorcycle face plant.

From here, the conversation (if I may abuse that word for what transpires) usually goes one or two ways. They will either ask about the school where I teach, or I will begin asking a set of rote questions about them and their post-high school life. If they go first, they want to know the following, in any order: Are you still teaching there? Yes. Why? Because they let me fuck around and have fun. Did you ever get married? Yes, I married Ms. George. Remember her - she taught P.E. for a while. No fucking way! She was hot as shit! (High fives ensue, followed by a puzzled grin that seems to say, "How in the hell did YOU bag someone as hot as HER?) Is (fill in blank with staff member's name) still teaching there? Yes (or) no. This last part can be a one-question segment of the conversation, or the list of teachers can go on and on and on to the point that you want to start interrupting with the "We Didn't Start the Fire" chorus.

Next comes the update on the student's life. Here is what I want to know - Are you married? Do you have kids? Where do you work? Did you go to college? Where do you live? How is your family? End of list. What I don't care to know, yet what I hear about ad fucking nauseum, are updates on what an endless list of former classmates is doing. I swear, some of these kids seem to have a mental yearbook which they run down in alphabetical order: "Aaron Aarsburger is still at the community college, and so is Alvin Armadost. Alyssa Armstrong has three kids with three different guys, but she was a whore in high school so that's no surprise. Did you know Chris Blackburn fucked her on the senior trip?" By the time we get to Ziggy Zygotrole and his sex change operation, which was also no surprise, I'm humming the chorus to "It's the End of the World As We Know It." (Um, get it? It's another list song. Okay, I know, if you have to explain it, it's a shitty joke. Fuck off.)

The whole thing ends as awkwardly as it began. There is usually a promise to keep in touch or to go have a few drinks some time. I prefer the keep-in-touch technique, as it sounds more genuine and allows us both to pretend that we actually intend to meet up again. You know, just in case that riveting classmate update only got around to the M's, meaning I just won't be able to sleep without knowing whether or not Navin Naab still pretends that he's not gay.

Again, I don't want to sound like some sort of prick. It truly touches me to know that former students will actually go out of their way to talk to me if they see me in public. I do enjoy seeing them and hearing how they are doing. I just wish the conversations were briefer. Unless, of course, a free bag of chronic is being proffered. Then by all means, chat away my friend, chat away.

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 teacherslounge@hobotrashcan.com.