I'm Really A Teacher Now
The junior class talent show is going to present a skit poking fun at my teaching style and some of the things I've said and done in the classroom. Expect a video. The date of the show is TBD for now.
Hopefully the community will understand the fake rock fakeout, the air horn, the Tesla coil, the Chinese death ray, Conspiracy Theories, Zombies, Grand Theft Auto, and Mr Safety.
Individually they're pretty harmless except for the foul language in the Mr Safety story. Together they make me sound like a dangerous lunatic. I mean it's not like they all happened on one day.
OK, Mr Safety. This is pretty much the way I tell my kids the story. The context is in preparing them, many for the first time, to use a scientific calculator before the first test. I know it's not quite the language I should be using in the classroom but the story looses it's impact if I clean it up. It's not like we took he word 'nigger' out of "The Great Gatsby" and we teach "Glenn Gary, Glenn Ross." (Put that coffee down! What's my name? Fuck you! That's my name.)
The Legend Of Mr. Safety
When I was growing up I didn't like baseball or any other game (what you might call sports) and neither did my dad. He's big ups into camping and the woods and hiking and I'm not. As a bonding thing when I was a kid Dad took me up to this place a bunch of times up in New Hampshire to go paintballing. This was early in the sport when there was only one kind of paintball gun and the only safety equipment was painters goggles. It was long before face armor and gunpowder fired pellets. Back in the 80's before the frat boys started showing up, paintball was pretty much played by law enforcement or former military types and me.
One of the more colorful guys that would show up every week was this grizzled Vietnam Vet who was pretty likeable and not creepy for a guy who still had a mistake eating away at his soul. It was pretty clear something happened that he hadn't forgiven himself for, buddies didn't come back from patrol or something. Whatever. One thing he used to say before every match would be "Don't let Mr. Safety fuck you in the woods." It would be years before I understood what he was talking about.
Know how to use your equipment before you need it and be prepared to use it properly. In other words, the day of the test is not the time to be learning how to use your calculator. One of my top 10 annoyances about the job is the kid, and there's one in every test, who comes up to me asking which button does what. Then the kid proceeds to enter this into the calculator exactly as I have it written here 6.02x10e23!
They don't understand why they got the wrong answer for every question on the test.
Don't let Mr Safety fuck you in the woods.
The kids like the story. For some reason, especially the little wealthy stoners. I wouldn't be surprised if some kid names his bong Mr. Safety.
Then one day one girl asked me if I named my penis "Mr. Safety." All I could do was say no.
Hopefully the community will understand the fake rock fakeout, the air horn, the Tesla coil, the Chinese death ray, Conspiracy Theories, Zombies, Grand Theft Auto, and Mr Safety.
Individually they're pretty harmless except for the foul language in the Mr Safety story. Together they make me sound like a dangerous lunatic. I mean it's not like they all happened on one day.
OK, Mr Safety. This is pretty much the way I tell my kids the story. The context is in preparing them, many for the first time, to use a scientific calculator before the first test. I know it's not quite the language I should be using in the classroom but the story looses it's impact if I clean it up. It's not like we took he word 'nigger' out of "The Great Gatsby" and we teach "Glenn Gary, Glenn Ross." (Put that coffee down! What's my name? Fuck you! That's my name.)
The Legend Of Mr. Safety
When I was growing up I didn't like baseball or any other game (what you might call sports) and neither did my dad. He's big ups into camping and the woods and hiking and I'm not. As a bonding thing when I was a kid Dad took me up to this place a bunch of times up in New Hampshire to go paintballing. This was early in the sport when there was only one kind of paintball gun and the only safety equipment was painters goggles. It was long before face armor and gunpowder fired pellets. Back in the 80's before the frat boys started showing up, paintball was pretty much played by law enforcement or former military types and me.
One of the more colorful guys that would show up every week was this grizzled Vietnam Vet who was pretty likeable and not creepy for a guy who still had a mistake eating away at his soul. It was pretty clear something happened that he hadn't forgiven himself for, buddies didn't come back from patrol or something. Whatever. One thing he used to say before every match would be "Don't let Mr. Safety fuck you in the woods." It would be years before I understood what he was talking about.
Know how to use your equipment before you need it and be prepared to use it properly. In other words, the day of the test is not the time to be learning how to use your calculator. One of my top 10 annoyances about the job is the kid, and there's one in every test, who comes up to me asking which button does what. Then the kid proceeds to enter this into the calculator exactly as I have it written here 6.02x10e23!
They don't understand why they got the wrong answer for every question on the test.
Don't let Mr Safety fuck you in the woods.
The kids like the story. For some reason, especially the little wealthy stoners. I wouldn't be surprised if some kid names his bong Mr. Safety.
Then one day one girl asked me if I named my penis "Mr. Safety." All I could do was say no.
posted by Dean ASC at 12:25 AM
3 Comments:
"Safety Meeting" was code for smoking pot at work. All the stoners at the Papa Johns would huddle in the furnace room and pass a bowl.
My friend that passed away a few years ago was actually the first employee to "burn down" a papa johns. He emptied his bowl into a trash can at the end of the night while closing down. Didn't quite have all of the fire put out.
And I probably would have told that student who asked about your pet name for a specific body part something along the lines of, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that question. Keep your statutory school girl to yourself."
"Statutory school girl fantasies to yourself." (that's how it was suppoesd to read.)
It's actually pretty rare for me to be blindsided with nothing to retort. It's probably best that it ended there.
I'm still kind of waiting for fall out from the lesbian kiss.
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