A Fictional Account of My Day at Work

"Hello class. It seems one of you has put a truth serum in my coffee today, and I have lost the capability to be diplomatic. Actually, I'm really happy. How are you?"

Class: "Blah blah blah."

Me: "Yeah, whatever. I'm not listening. ♬ I think I'm wonderful."

Class: "Is she singing?" (boys thowing things)

Me: "It's funny how pathetic some of your NBA dreams are. I know that you, Henry, have thrown something across the room at least five times a class period the entire school year, always missing and pretending you weren't aiming for the trash."

Henry: speechless.

Me: "Michael, go to the office."

Michael: "But I didn't do anything!"

Me: "No, but you always do. Why not just skip the preliminaries? You're a bully. Admit it. There comes a time in everyone's life when we need to recognize who we are. Fourteen is as good an age as any. Go on. Get out. I'll inform them to ban you from the end of the year field trip, too, because let's face it: everyone will be happier if you just aren't there."

Dana's head falls on the desk.

Me: "Normally, Dana, I might ask what is wrong, but let's face it: you're possessed by Satan. Or, to be more correct, you are an overly dramatic teenager who constantly pretends to be possessed by Satan, so even if you start foaming at the mouth again today, I'm going to ignore it. There's only so much foaming I can take in a given school year."

George: (tentatively) "Can I ask you a question?"

Me: "You may. You're such a sweetheart, George. I wish I had twenty of you in this class. You're always positive, always do what I ask, and you never seem to notice that everyone thinks you're a geek."

George: "Um... Thanks, but... could I go to the office and get the principal? I think you're going to get fired if you keep teaching this class today on truth serum."

Me: "By all means, George. Tell him to come as soon as possible, before I tell Beatrice how she's probably destined for prison, because everyone in town knows who set that house on fire last Thursday. Of course, if she didn't have an alcoholic abusive mother, she might not do such things... I feel for you really Beatrice, you know? I mean I can relate, because of that time in Chippewa. Did I ever tell the class about that time in Chippewa?"

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