Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Vic Wants to Vent. A Speedy Rant About Wind.
I'm in my second year of teaching. The first year was a blur. I have no idea if I did anything right or wrong. I can't remember what the students were like. I was in a fog the first two semesters just trying to keep my shit together.
But now, solidly in place halfway through this semester, I'm starting to recognize that I'm teaching children, 18-20 year old children who have no attention spans - look, a bug flew by - and who act like 5 year olds.
In the middle of a student's reading of a heartbreaking poem about suicide today, Dick in the back row actually farted. Not, a small whisper of flatulence, but a raise-the-cheek fart.
A kid two seats over said, "Hey, that's the Caf's burrito working, man!" And the whole class laughed, including the poor sap I'd tapped to read the poem.
I felt my face go red, and beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. I could only think of one thing to say, and I didn't say it gracefully, "Why can't you just BEHAVE?"
And it was quiet for a second and then some titters. It was close to the end of class. I grabbed my book and my jacket and headed for the door.
"Be here Friday," I said.