Teachers Have Email?

I
skipped over a hundred days of school over the last two years of my
high school experience [might be why I graduated in summer school!].
I’m not ashamed of it, don’t regret a moment of it. I’m just saying…

Well,
I can think of several moments I regret… but they all coincide with
how I spent my time while not at school, not the fact that I was
missing it. The less I say the better so as to preserve the implied
innocence of the hardly innocent. I still can’t believe we did that on Devil Worship Road, and when the police got there…

The
point is… there needs to be a disconnect during high school between
the family of the student and the faculty except on those instances
where the two are supposed to coincide. Parent/Teacher meetings, school
functions, when the parents come home to find the gym teacher
ejaculating onto their daughter’s shoulder [we had a gym coach who allegedly had a little student harem in my day],
and the like. There needs to be a disconnect because that tiny amount
of freedom is where we get to define our own parameters and learn from
our own lessons with the least repercussions. There are still
repercussions (jail stints, unplanned kids, gender reassignment,
religious zeal), but every step forward carries more weight. College,
fun but you have to focus lest you be makin’ the donuts. After college,
silly things like rent and survival bills. Then there’s that whole
having a family nonsense.

There
are exceptions of course. I cross paths sometimes with folks who are
pressing 40 and still living paycheck to paycheck thanks to nightly
happy hours and revolving doors of roommates [who knows, they may have
the right idea]. These people have a fun life and numerous sexual
partners of different shapes, colors, and sizes but there’s a chance
they may have missed a valuable lesson somewhere along the line.

But
high school, you need a little string. To see what happens. How you use
that freedom. I used mine foolishly, but I only regret it when the AIDS
flares up when a cold front moves in.

Teachers have email now.
And the email addresses of parents. And vice versa. Instantaneously,
they can communicate. For instance, a child’s mother can find out that
he made shiss all over the industrial arts room before the janitor has
even had a chance to decipher what percentage of each there is in the
mess. They can know if you’re skipping school before you’ve even had a
chance to get her bra off in the tool shed behind her parents’ place.
Or in my case, before you’ve disproven the presence of El Chupacabra in Alpharetta, GA.

Teachers
reaching out to parents on a whim. That’s bullshit. And I’m the father
of a five year old girl who is guaranteed to have a troublesome decade
ahead of him.

Just
like church and state should be separated [in my opinion by solar
systems], so too should the line of communication between teacher and
parent. Unless it helps. If a teacher sees the next great author or
spaceship rider or assassin of NASCAR drivers in a child, maybe then
they should be able to make contact. But the whole Big Brother thing?
Too early. High schoolers may think they’re grown up and the center of
the universe but in reality they’re about ten or fifteen really good
unsupervised fuck-ups from having even the faintest clue about how fun AND dangerous freedom can be.

Fuck a teacher’s email address in the ass.

Today’s Moments:

  • I
    won $704 in Keno yesterday, which was cool. Until I went to claim it
    and saw the saddest form of life claiming her ‘winnings’ before
    shambling to her 1969 Evil Dead Car and a future of hacking coughs and
    stinking out the ass.

  • The
    CHUD/X-Factor softball team pulled out a 15-14 victory last night with
    a cobbled together lineup and their coach nursing a massive migraine.
    At least Steve Murphy didn’t strike out. Swinging. Again.

  • I still need two fantasy baseball players.

  • I decided to do a small run of Lobster CD’s. Legit. With a UPC and everything. It’d be neat if you got one.