Studying up for the Bar

My schedule is excruciating. I wake up before 6 am, travel through thick traffic to(oooh, alliteration) get to where I teach summer school, teach for six hours, commute an hour back to graduate school where I attend class for four hours, then go home and eat my one decent meal of the day if I'm up for cooking, do homework and lesson plan, hoping all of this affords me a few hours of sleep before I get up for school again -- sometimes it doesn't.

My master teacher recently made reference to the fact that all teachers are alcoholics. I laughed, but didn't find that to be true. I thought one sign that I was prepared to be a teacher was my lack of interest in drinking by my last semester in college, which continued through the early summer.

It all changed when some of my cohorts suggested going to a bar after grad class last week. Looking forward to social opportunities, I accepted, and I had a grand old time yucking it up with the fellow to-be English teachers, talking all sorts of shit. There was an obnoxious group near us that was extremely loud. Eventually our parties had a conversation, where upon we learned that these people were veteran teachers with the most foul mouths ever. I caught one of them pantomiming a blowjob; when he saw me notice him, he apologized that someone so young had to see that. I told him, whatever, I'm old enough to drink, it's not that bad. He told me that by the time I've taught for several years, I'll be in his position. Yeah right, I thought.

Though I'm getting my masters in education, I find it to be a bit of a joke. The professors like to "model" effective young teaching, so a lot of the work is not rigorous. As one of my peers pointed out, the challenging part is not the content of the work itself, but the amount they give us: there is far too much assigned in a given day given our numerous responsibilities, meaning we must spend far more time than intellectual ability on our studies.

This situation leads some of my classmates and I to take the approach I'd never imagine previously -- drinking during class. It's not like I ever feel the need to drink, but alcohol does make the four hour class period go by much quicker. One professor gave some analogy about an expedition to the South Pole. She spoke of some explorers who went to the South Pole (upon which she made a phallic gesture to indicate a pole) and did "that doggy thing together" (she meant dogsled, while we thought doggy-style), somewhere threw in the word "abreast," then concluded that they all reached their goal together, at the same time, which was seemed nothing short of a climax. Of course, I lost it. For once, all of the poor metaphors were immensely enjoyable.

After sobering up by the end of class, four of us proceeded to a bar to extend the fun. I thought I was following one person, but at some point another car must have got between us, and I ended up following that person to their house. Yes, I'm that stupid. Worse yet, I had the person following behind me follow me as well. When the guy pulled into his apartment complex, two cars followed closely behind. At the time, I thought, this isn't the bar, but never aroused much suspicion. We ended up following him all the way to a dead-end road, where he pulled up to a garage and got out and gave us a weird look. It wasn't until he got out that I realized, oops, I'm not following who I thought I was following. I freaked out and quickly reversed. I can only imagine how creeped out that guy was; ultimately, it's my fault for not knowing my way around my town of residence. Still, it's amusing that I inadvertently followed some guy home. Let's hope I don't get arrested.

After eventually making our way to the bar, we collectively started doing our homework over drinks. Homework is far better that way, I assure you, especially when the assignment is mindless. Part of the assignment was to discuss your findings with someone else and have them comment and initial the paper as proof. We discussed all right, and I can't wait to see the obnoxiously drunk things we said about each other's work - and also how the professors respond. Oh, grad school. We stayed there doing homework until we were ready to drive home, and the DJ kept heckling us, "the people doing homework." I understand how that's not typical bar behavior, but come on, we're preparing to educate your drunk ass' kids. I request Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" in tribute to our scholarly crew (and later 99 Luftballoons, just because) and they happily oblige.

I realized the night was over a midnight when I asked the waitperson if the bar had a three-hole puncher. Kindly, ey checked for me, but with no success. Who asks for a three-hole punch at a bar? Must be a drunk teacher!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

hahahaa not gunna lie that made me laugh out loud