The Good, the Bad & the Fall-Down Drunk

Lilly’s school newsletter told me that today, May 9, is National Teacher Day, which I think is something the NEA cooked up for its underpaid profession. A day to honor the good teachers. Like everyone else, I had some good teachers in my school years. Some admirable professionals who imparted wisdom.

But that’s not so much fun to read about. I’d rather take this moment to recognize the bad teachers I’ve had. Such as the spineless junior high school English teacher I had who could not remotely control her class, and I (among others) suffered for it. Or the junior high (again) history teacher who was a mean drunk—downright mean during class sometimes, though usually not to me, but rather to kids he thought were stupid. Also, as a function of his drunkenness, at least once he was reputed to have fallen down drunk in class and struggled to get up. Then there was the high school English teacher who expressed herself mainly through sarcasm, or so it seemed, often enough directed toward me. You, the bad teachers, I salute. You too imparted life lessons, though without trying.

Am I remembering correctly? Or should I have more compassion for these people, understanding as I do now some of the pressures and difficulties adult life poses? No. Sometimes bad is bad.