Giving thanks

Let this teacher give thanks for all the goodness in the world that makes this job so rewarding and enjoyable. I would like to give thanks for ...

The Internet: As a teacher who is hit daily with challenging student queries, I can find the answer to anything in just seconds with just a few taps on the keyboard. I can find stimulating lesson plans that other teachers have so generously posted. I can order supplemental teaching tools that will make my teaching even more dynamic (as if that were possible!). However, I don't use it for any of that. I like to browse random sites after passing out some busywork to the kids. I'm a YouTube whizkid, a StupidVideos.com whirlwind, a TheOnion.com fanatic. The ol' Internet sure makes the hours go by a lot faster than they did in the old days, when I had to hide a newspaper below my desk or hide a crossword puzzle behind my gradebook while I feigned hard deskwork. While the kids thought I was scrunching my brow over how to grade a student's essay, I was just perplexed by a five-letter word for "Ancient Syrian capital."

The jumbo paper clip: This cheap little piece of twisted metal is invaluable. I can collect a class's work and keep it all together with one of these trusty fasteners. I stuff all the classes' work in my satchel and head home to begin grading my well-organized sets of papers. But then I get home and put on the radio and get on the computer and then put on TV and then pick up a magazine and then have some dinner and then watch some more TV and then have a drink or four and then, well how about that, it's too late to begin grading. But at least my papers will be organized when I get to work the next day, where I can grade them while I show a movie. But then I'll fuck around on the Internet instead, and before long, I'll just toss the work into the trashcan while the kids are engrossed in some inappropriate movie that hasn't got a goddamn thing to do with whatever boring book I am forcing them to read. I'll save the paper clips for the next set of papers I collect.

Teachers with bad judgment: These invaluable imbeciles make it possible for me to remain under the radar of the higher-ups, who constantly have to deal with the myriad bad decisions these morons make. Give all your kids the same exact grades because you didn't do any work for a quarter? Go for it. Insult a kid's parents, resulting in a nasty parent conference with the principal, who is forced to mediate? Commence to insulting! Can't get to work on time? Sure, go ahead and drag it on in here whenever you want. The bosses will be so busy dealing with your inexplicably stupid bullshit that they won't even realize what a useless load of lard I am.

Thanksgiving break, including Wednesday off: While most of the rest of the holiday travelers will MF'ing the traffic jams on every major interstate along the east coast around 4:00 Wednesday evening, I'll be on my third Sam Adams while watching some piece of shit movie that HBO is showing for the 43rd time this month. But damn, that Reese Witherspoon is a cutie.

Fire drills: They always take place in the afternoon, when the classes are always the worst. I'll be suffering through my seventh period of future felons and the fire alarm will go off, giving me a 10-minute reprieve from hell as we leisurely stroll outside and then hang around in the parking lot, hoping with every molecule of our beings that there actually is a fire or perhaps a bomb threat. Of course, if there ever were a real fire, I would be the first person out the door and you would find my size 9 1/2 footprints on the backs of too-slow students who never learned the "Save Yourself First" philosophy. (Note to self: Develop "Self Preservation" unit for third quarter.)

The DVD player: The device that is right now allowing me to bang out this column while the kids stare at some rated R movie in the front of my room. They are watching Mask, that Cher/Eric Stoltz classic about the poor kid with big bulbous bean who likes Harleys and blind chicks. Hell, that movie teaches kids more valuable lessons all the Canterbury Tales combined.

The Computer Discipline Database: We have a computerized discipline system in which we enter the names of misbehaving students and their specific offenses. These lead to a wide variety of punishments, all the way up to expulsion. Kids hate being "put into The Database!" So when some numb-nut little peckerhead just can't control himself and watch a movie in silence, I'll just march over to my computer - after putting down my half-completed crossword - and pretend to angrily enter a student's name and transgression into the dreaded database. The entire class shuts up, and the offending student fights back tears and worries himself sick about when he'll be expelled. Meanwhile, I am not even using The Database. I am just dashing off an email to Mrs. Bitters asking where she wants to eat out that night. It's all about the ruse in this job.

HoboTrashcan: For giving me something to do today, the last day before Thanksgiving break, as I knocked off the crossword by 8:15 and finished the newspaper by 10:00. Now, how about I check out that Michael Richards macaca meltdown on YouTube. That crazy bastard ought to be put in The Database.

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.