Tuesday, November 04, 2003
THE MONKEY'S PAW
Last Saturday night, the culmination of ½ a year's worth of event planning drew to a close. Since May of last year, I - the speech teacher- have been planning a large speech competition that would feature groups of students competing before parents, administration, teachers and students' peers. The event also included a panel of judges who were to give scores in various categories, thus awarding various groups/acts who would claim stunningly shiny trophies before we called it a night.
The weeks leading up to this event were harrowing, and there were many days when I found myself running solely on adrenaline, supplied by frequents swigs of a popular energy drink that promises to bestow one with "wings." Most mornings, by the time I got on campus, indeed, my heart would be racing, blood bubbling in my veins, and my mind would seemingly be alert. Dutifully, I would ready myself to teach 6 classes, and then stay late into the night running errands, buying trophies, or working on the stage set. More often than naught, 8 pm would find me working at my desk or computer, flushing out the behind-the-scenes details that would put my name in "lights". I suppose I was searching for my "piece de resistance"- the one thing that would help to place my name permanently in the "Who's Who" of speech teachers across the country were such a thing to exist. If it was my goal to establish myself as a quality teacher, with a renowned reputation and a flair for excellence, I did indeed achieve this task. However, much to my chagrin, this goal was obtained at an alarming price.
Allow me to explain.
On the morning of the event, my students and I gathered together to prepare the place. This included inflating a myriad of balloons with helium, using power drills and the like to firmly plant the backdrop on stage, setting up signs, a ticket booth, organizing the judges' scoreboards, photocopying the programs and folding them, and of course- dress rehearsals with the sound tech. It was a good thing that I had taken the time to flush out the minor details- the hours leading up to the event seemed easy and stress free- a place I like to be (90% preparation, %10 execution). Soon, 7 pm rolled around, the audience was seated, the opening music began, and the magic that I had so carefully orchestrated began. I took my seat like a proud momma bear admiring her little cubs as they danced and sang in simian-like fashion on stage.
Everything was going smoothly until the M.C.s (the school president and vice president) introduced a "guest" in the audience and invited said "guest" to the stage. This was, of course, supposed to have been cleared by me, but had been added to the program in the most beguiling and conniving way! As I looked in the direction of where the MCs were pointing my entire being cringed as I recognized the face of an old student who also happens to be the son of a famous country western, guitar swinging, cowboy belt buckling musician. Words such as "diabolical" "incorrigible" "deviant" "ruthless"and "SATAN" immediately came to mind, as I struggled to bring my panic attack under control. I took a deep breath and crossed my fingers; I could only hope that he wouldn't do anything stupid, which he is famous for doing. He is the kind of boy that every teacher and principal dreads, but can't kick out of the school because he's... well-he's a celebrity (by default)!
My worst fears were realized when the little shit- that uninvited guest- got on stage and began a dialogue with the M..C.s. As God is my witness, before the Lord our Savior, the parents, the students, the teachers, the adminstration, and little innocents, this goblin of a teenager -without skipping a beat- and without shame- answered the M.C.s questions while caressing and tweaking his nipples in true pornographic format! As if this was not horrific enough, he then proceeded to answer a question with the word "Yes" repeated in orgasmic fashion (as in "Yes! Oh Yes! Yeeeessssss! Oh! Oh!" repeat). Images of the superintendent and his wife seated in the back row dying of mortification engulfed me; all around me there was an air of tension and I sank low into my seat praying the principal had taken a bathroom break. Thankfully, the episode was brief and he was whisked off stage- just before I made the decision to go on stage and drag him off myself.
Over the weekend I wrote a self-deprecating letter to the principal and superintendent, in which I took total blame for the pornographic display of insolence. They emailed me Monday morning and informed me that although they had received a few complaints from parents, they would handle the situation and inform the student that he was to never darken the doorstep of this institution again.
May I make a reference to a literary work titled "The Monkey's Paw"? A story in which a small family is granted the power to wish for anything, and when they do, receive what they wish for in less than favorable circumstances. May I never again be so vain as to ask the Powers of the Universe to exalt me above my fellow teachers, lest I be humbled in a way more excruciating than what took place on Saturday!
Last Saturday night, the culmination of ½ a year's worth of event planning drew to a close. Since May of last year, I - the speech teacher- have been planning a large speech competition that would feature groups of students competing before parents, administration, teachers and students' peers. The event also included a panel of judges who were to give scores in various categories, thus awarding various groups/acts who would claim stunningly shiny trophies before we called it a night.
The weeks leading up to this event were harrowing, and there were many days when I found myself running solely on adrenaline, supplied by frequents swigs of a popular energy drink that promises to bestow one with "wings." Most mornings, by the time I got on campus, indeed, my heart would be racing, blood bubbling in my veins, and my mind would seemingly be alert. Dutifully, I would ready myself to teach 6 classes, and then stay late into the night running errands, buying trophies, or working on the stage set. More often than naught, 8 pm would find me working at my desk or computer, flushing out the behind-the-scenes details that would put my name in "lights". I suppose I was searching for my "piece de resistance"- the one thing that would help to place my name permanently in the "Who's Who" of speech teachers across the country were such a thing to exist. If it was my goal to establish myself as a quality teacher, with a renowned reputation and a flair for excellence, I did indeed achieve this task. However, much to my chagrin, this goal was obtained at an alarming price.
Allow me to explain.
On the morning of the event, my students and I gathered together to prepare the place. This included inflating a myriad of balloons with helium, using power drills and the like to firmly plant the backdrop on stage, setting up signs, a ticket booth, organizing the judges' scoreboards, photocopying the programs and folding them, and of course- dress rehearsals with the sound tech. It was a good thing that I had taken the time to flush out the minor details- the hours leading up to the event seemed easy and stress free- a place I like to be (90% preparation, %10 execution). Soon, 7 pm rolled around, the audience was seated, the opening music began, and the magic that I had so carefully orchestrated began. I took my seat like a proud momma bear admiring her little cubs as they danced and sang in simian-like fashion on stage.
Everything was going smoothly until the M.C.s (the school president and vice president) introduced a "guest" in the audience and invited said "guest" to the stage. This was, of course, supposed to have been cleared by me, but had been added to the program in the most beguiling and conniving way! As I looked in the direction of where the MCs were pointing my entire being cringed as I recognized the face of an old student who also happens to be the son of a famous country western, guitar swinging, cowboy belt buckling musician. Words such as "diabolical" "incorrigible" "deviant" "ruthless"and "SATAN" immediately came to mind, as I struggled to bring my panic attack under control. I took a deep breath and crossed my fingers; I could only hope that he wouldn't do anything stupid, which he is famous for doing. He is the kind of boy that every teacher and principal dreads, but can't kick out of the school because he's... well-he's a celebrity (by default)!
My worst fears were realized when the little shit- that uninvited guest- got on stage and began a dialogue with the M..C.s. As God is my witness, before the Lord our Savior, the parents, the students, the teachers, the adminstration, and little innocents, this goblin of a teenager -without skipping a beat- and without shame- answered the M.C.s questions while caressing and tweaking his nipples in true pornographic format! As if this was not horrific enough, he then proceeded to answer a question with the word "Yes" repeated in orgasmic fashion (as in "Yes! Oh Yes! Yeeeessssss! Oh! Oh!" repeat). Images of the superintendent and his wife seated in the back row dying of mortification engulfed me; all around me there was an air of tension and I sank low into my seat praying the principal had taken a bathroom break. Thankfully, the episode was brief and he was whisked off stage- just before I made the decision to go on stage and drag him off myself.
Over the weekend I wrote a self-deprecating letter to the principal and superintendent, in which I took total blame for the pornographic display of insolence. They emailed me Monday morning and informed me that although they had received a few complaints from parents, they would handle the situation and inform the student that he was to never darken the doorstep of this institution again.
May I make a reference to a literary work titled "The Monkey's Paw"? A story in which a small family is granted the power to wish for anything, and when they do, receive what they wish for in less than favorable circumstances. May I never again be so vain as to ask the Powers of the Universe to exalt me above my fellow teachers, lest I be humbled in a way more excruciating than what took place on Saturday!
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