This Afternoon, Metropolitan High

I have a long afternoon grammar class. It begins with Tom being called a “fat ass” by Tanya, to whom Tom in turn says, “Suck my dick, bitch.” Then it starts to get ugly. By the time I settle this nonsense down, I’m summoned to go to a mystery meeting that was just called.

I sit down next to Bora. Dr. Bora has that semi-deranged expression, which I’ve come to think of as The Public School Look. She called the office during the class to report that one of her kids just set her bulletin board on fire. That and the fire alarm doesn’t work. The secretary tells her to put in a work order that says that the bulletin board burned itself out.

The mystery meeting agenda, over which we have no say, is to plan for the 100th anniversary of our school’s founding, an anniversary that is to occur six years from now. We’re told to break into small groups and brain-storm. It’s more like a brain-sprinkle for the rest of the afternoon.

The last bell rings. The up-side of my day is that only a few students left me homework to grade. That and there’s no after-school faculty meeting.

I return to my class. My substitute teacher, Coach Benton, says that Tanya and Tom mutually pantsed each other. But since there was less than fifteen minutes left in class when the pants flew, the coach figured it wasn’t worth the effort to send them to the office. I understand.

Filed under: Prose, Publius