CYA meetings

Every year we have the same endless faculty meeting in which the district covers its ass against potential lawsuits. You probably have the same types of meetings where you work. We listen to a parade of bored and boring speakers explain to us how to spot suicidal kids, how not to sexually harass somebody, how to handle the unlikely but potentially exciting possibility of an armed gunman pumping hot lead into a couple of dozen until-then-bored-out-of-their-fucking- minds teachers and students.

To ensure that every staff member received the training, we have to sign off that we actually attended the meeting. I wonder if one of those sign-in sheets was ever used as evidence in court. I would love to be on a jury in a sexual harassment case in which a seething prosecutor screams at the defendant, "And isn't this your signature on the form indicating that you were indeed present at the meeting where they explained to you that it is not at all acceptable to offer the attendance secretary a ... how did you put it ... ‘cock hoagie' for lunch?"

I doze through these meetings every year, partly because I've heard the same messages so many times and partly because I know I'm going to act however I goddamn well please should one of their farfetched scenarios ever occur. Here are the Bitter plans for each situation:

Avoiding Blood-Borne Pathogens and Other Potentially Infectious Bodily Fluids: The nurse always gives a thorough demonstration on how to handle a bleeding student. She tells us how to put on our surgical gloves, how to take them off safely and how to wash our hands the proper way. She might as well tell us how to perform brain surgery, because I'm not doing that either.

If a kid comes up to my desk with a severed artery, interrupting my web-surfing and no doubt disrupting a classroom full of students who up to that point were engrossed in some soon to be trashed busywork, I'm not going to be too pleased. (And if he bleeds on my lunch, which is stashed under my desk, I'm going open up another artery on the thoughtless bastard.) I will simply call for the nurse, ask the dying child to go stand in the hall, then roar at the panicked kids to get back to their 100-question grammar worksheet.

As for avoiding other bodily fluids, well, she never quite explains what those might be, but I'm willing to wager that I don't ever take a face full of spit or an eye full of jerked off jizz or even a bit of wiped off ear wax on my shirtsleeve. I steer clear of teacher-student contact at all costs. Which brings me to ...

Sexual Harassment in the Workplace: Jesus, it's a wonder anyone ever bangs a co-worker anymore. The rules make any potential interaction grounds for dismissal and lawsuits. Even if you are young, single, good-looking, intelligent, articulate, not addicted to drugs or alcohol, and basically pleasant, affable prince of a fellow (or princess of a dame, I guess), I'd still be terrified to initiate even the most innocuous interaction.

A simple question such as "Are you through with the copy machine?" might bring an angry "Why, do you plan to photocopy your balls and put the picture in my mailbox!" reply. An innocent "I like those shoes" might be misconstrued as "Do you think I could fuck your brains out while you wear those hot black pumps?" Hell, I am even afraid to say "When you walk by my room every day, all I can think about is eating brunch off that world-class ass of yours, Toots" anymore. That line might have worked back in the 80s, but today I'd never say it. Then again, I'm married, and Mrs. Bitters would be terribly hurt if I re-used the same line that worked so well on her one October 5, 1990.

So I don't even talk to women, let alone look at them. I don't care if a woman shows up wearing a shirt with a picture of my long lost childhood dachshund over her tits. I'm just going to stare at the copy machine until my job is done, then return to my room and jerk off in private.

Identifying Suicidal Tendencies in Students: I never listen past the first two minutes of this presentation. Once the pupil personnel worker describes the symptoms of suicidal depression, I realize that every single goddamn symptom she described belongs to me, and then I spend the rest of the meeting wondering just why the hell I don't grow some balls and wash down a bottle of Tylenol with a fifth of Jack Daniels. Then I get even more depressed because I know that I'll never have the guts to actually go through with it. Which makes my depression even worse. Then the meeting ends and I head home to my martini glasses and forget about the depression until the next morning when I wake up hungover and ... depressed.

Emergency Procedures: This is my favorite meeting because of the absurdity of it all. Our school actually has an evacuation plan in case some horrific terrorist attack takes place and our school is facing some biological hazard that could kill us all. The best part of the plan is that we'll all be bused to a safe location. Why is that so funny? Think about it. Assume some airborne killing agent is headed our way, something so deadly it will kill us instantly if it comes in contact with us. We follow our trusty plan and get the kids to the parking lot to await the arrival of the buses, which will be driven by ... whom, exactly.

I'd love to hear the conversation between the dispatcher and the drivers when those calls come in. "Hey Clem, you gotta get Bus 37 up to the high school and get them kids out of there? A dirty bomb went off nearby and everyone is gonna die unless we get them kids out of there ... Clem? You there? Clem?" (Cue sounds of screeching car tires spitting up gravel, which hits the unmanned bus as Clem saves his own ass and heads out of town, waiting school kids be damned.) You would have to one very dedicated and well paid bus driver to show up in that situation.

This is not to pick on bus drivers, because I know one very pussified teacher who would react the same way were the school ever attacked by a perverted milk truck driver armed with more ammo than the 101st Airborne ... or a Ray Lewis Super Bowl party. There would be no "In Memoriam" articles in People magazine about the heroic efforts of Ned Bitters, who saved kids' lives by jumping in front of them once the shooting started.

I fully intend to grab the littlest two students and use them as human shields as I run screaming toward the surrounding woods. That's if I don't make to my classroom closet first. When it's all said and done and the CSI folks are surveying the carnage, they are going so see a bunch of student corpses with size nine Florsheim footprints on their backs.

And you can bet I'll be sure to step on their backs as I hurry out of the building. If I step on someone's ass, they might nail me for sexual harassment, and I'm not sure I signed the form this year.

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.