Put Them in Their Place

I'm a phenomenal teacher. I'm so devoted to my profession as an English educator that I've started vandalizing. Large signs at my school advertise "DANCE TONITE" and I can't help but sharpie a thick line through the "TE" and write in "GHT." Let's not think of it as vandalism, but large scale editing. Never mind the fact that I have to "edit" discreetly and act like nothing's up when someone walks by.

It's all about putting students in their place. Frequently, my students forget their textbooks. I can't let one student go to the lockers to get it, or then I'll have to let ten of them leave class for the same purpose. After unsuccessfully begging me to let her get her textbook, Lenore* asks if she can use the restroom. "If you're only using the restroom," I stipulate. Lenore assures me that that's the case, however, moments later shows up with a book in hand. "Looks like Lenore likes to read on the toilet," I announce to my class. Lenore turns various shades of red; she won't be lying to me again soon.

I almost always let students use the restroom when they ask; I don't want to burst any bladders. Unfortunately, their laxness on my part means that everyone is asking to use the bathroom, though I only let one student go at a time. After one student comes back, she hands the pass to Monique*. Manuel* complains that he was next. I support him, explaining that I had said Manuel was first. Monique gripes, "Excuse me, haven't you ever heard of ladies first!" "Ladies first has nothing to do with bladder control," I retort, irritated. "Yeah, but ladies have cycles!" she tries. "I understand that," I counter. "But certain students in this class ask to leave like they're cycling every other day." The class erupts at my slam. A word of advice to fellow teachers: if you make a menstruation joke, the class is bound to get off track.