Thursday, November 20, 2003
MY BRILLIANT CAREERS (1D.2)
INSTANT KARMA
I got to Eng a few minutes early. I was sitting in my car, listening to the radio, when someone rapped on the window.
"Yes?"
"There's no smoking on school grounds. Exactly what type of example are you trying to set?"
I was in the faculty lot. Except for my tormentor, there was no one else around.
"Sorry," I said.
"I take it you're the music substitute?"
"Yes, I am," I said.
"I'm Mr. Stupinski, Assistant Vice Principal. I'd like to have a talk with you before the afternoon classes. Can you follow me to my office?"
"Okay," I said.
When I got out of the car I took a look at Stupinski. A small, thin man, he was wearing one of those Russian type fur hats, and was sporting a Hitler mustache. A nasty combination, I thought. He looked like nothing but trouble.
Stupinski stared right at me. He was very fair, almost pale, but his cheeks were reddening from the excitement of the confrontation. His mustache was bristling. My God, he's trying to intimidate me, I thought.
"Follow me," he said. He did a rapid about face, clicked his heels, and marched off.
IN THE OFFICE
"Have a seat," Stupinski said.
Now he's going to stand up and try to tower over me, I thought. Must have learned that technique in an assertiveness seminar they made him attend.
Stupinski stood up. He teetered a little as he attempted to tower. I snuck a quick look down. As I suspected, he was wearing built up shoes with thick heels in an attempt to make himself look less short.
"We have some serious issues to discuss," he said. "We've had reports."
My eyes were now about level with Stupinski's mid-section. The skinny back part of his tie was much longer than the front. He'd tucked it into his pants.
"Reports?" I asked.
"Reports about the events of this morning."
"Events?" I asked.
"You may be under the impression that what you do at Chang is separate from what you do at Eng," Stupinski said. "But that is not the case at all. Chang and Eng are very much connected. What you do at Chang follows you to Eng. And vice versa."
"Vice versa?" I asked.
"I think you know exactly what I mean," Stupinski said. "Now, do you deny that you altered the lesson plan prepared by Ms. D'Santinence? Did you not play 'Erie Canal' out of sequence?"
Instead of answering, I slowly rolled my tongue across my upper lip and shifted my eyes. Stupinski's face got redder.
"And to threaten the students with Iggy Pop? I've never heard the like!"
I carefully ran my index finger across my upper lip, curled it down my face and under my chin.
"You walked into a delicate situation and made it worse. Mrs. Stalkoff herself reports that the children are all very upset."
Stalkoff, I thought. She never did like me.
"If I had any other options, I'd send you home right now. Why, I'd go in there and teach those classes myself, if only the union would allow it. Do you understand me?"
I could feel my headache coming back.
"Well, why are you just sitting there? Don't you know afternoon classes are about to start? Isn't it enough that you were late this morning?
AND YOU TURN YOURSELF AROUND
Thus chastened, I left for the office to get the lesson plan.
THURSDAY: The Hokey Pokey. (Whole class dances, boys dance, girls dance, row 1 dances, row 2 dances, and so on through the rows.)
I Hokey-Pokeyed properly through the first three classes, helped along by the fact that in the first two classes, the regular teachers, apparently having been forewarned, stayed in the room with their classes.
The stress was taking a toll, however. My headache had become so severe that at one point I dove behind the desk, certain that helicopter gunships were attacking. The students didn't mind. They went on shaking and turning as if I were irrelevant.
I only had one more class to get through.
YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT FOOT IN
The whole class danced. The boy in the front of row 1 did an exceptional job. I'd never seen such enthusiasm.
YOU PUT YOUR LEFT FOOT IN
The boys danced. The enthusiastic boy outshone them all.
YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT HAND IN
The girls danced. Enthusiastic boy jumped up to dance with them.
"That was very nice," I said to him. "But it was the girls' turn to dance. Please don't dance out of turn. It spoils the lesson plan."
YOU PUT YOUR LEFT HAND IN
Row 1 danced. Enthusiastic boy hoked and poked.
YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT SIDE IN
Row 2 danced. Enthusiastic boy could hardly restrain himself, but I stared him down for the duration of the song.
YOU PUT YOUR LEFT SIDE IN
Row 3 danced. Enthusiastic boy leapt up and joined in. He was playing to the crowd now, refusing to make eye contact with me.
At the end of the song I spoke sharply to him. "Now that's quite enough. I'm very disappointed in the way you keep dancing out of turn. It won't do."
The boy looked at me, but didn't say a word.
YOU PUT YOUR NOSE IN
Row 4 danced. As enthusiastic boy jumped from his seat, I screeched the needle across the record and stopped the song.
"You. Boy," I snarled. "Move once more and you can Hokey Pokey your way to the principal's office. Do you understand me?"
AND YOU SHAKE IT ALL ABOUT
It got very quiet. Then enthusiastic boy burst into tears. The rest of row 1 followed. In a flash the entire class began sobbing and wailing. In walked their regular teacher.
"What, ah, ah. Ah what."
She's actually sputtering, I thought. I didn't know people really did that.
But she quickly regained her composure. "What is going on here? What have you done to my children? This is an outrage!"
"I guess I'll be leaving then," I said. "Good afternoon to you."
As I pulled out of the school parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Stupinski in my rear view mirror. He was jumping up and down and shaking his fist at me.
THAT'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT!
When I woke up from my nap, I could hear FW banging around in the kitchen.
"Listen," I said. "I think I'm going to take Friday off and reassess my situation. This subbing isn't working out exactly as I'd planned. Tell your father thanks anyway."
"My father knows all about it. Parker called him. They won't be using you anymore. They say you played The Stooges to second graders, that you were smoking right in the principal's office, and that you slam danced a little boy who was doing The Bunny Hop."
"It's all true," I said. "Sometimes I just don't know what gets into me."
"Well, just because you won't be teaching tomorrow, don't think you can sleep in. My father needs you to pick up his truck at 6 and take a load of broken asbestos shingles to the dump."
"Great," I said. "No problem."
INSTANT KARMA
I got to Eng a few minutes early. I was sitting in my car, listening to the radio, when someone rapped on the window.
"Yes?"
"There's no smoking on school grounds. Exactly what type of example are you trying to set?"
I was in the faculty lot. Except for my tormentor, there was no one else around.
"Sorry," I said.
"I take it you're the music substitute?"
"Yes, I am," I said.
"I'm Mr. Stupinski, Assistant Vice Principal. I'd like to have a talk with you before the afternoon classes. Can you follow me to my office?"
"Okay," I said.
When I got out of the car I took a look at Stupinski. A small, thin man, he was wearing one of those Russian type fur hats, and was sporting a Hitler mustache. A nasty combination, I thought. He looked like nothing but trouble.
Stupinski stared right at me. He was very fair, almost pale, but his cheeks were reddening from the excitement of the confrontation. His mustache was bristling. My God, he's trying to intimidate me, I thought.
"Follow me," he said. He did a rapid about face, clicked his heels, and marched off.
IN THE OFFICE
"Have a seat," Stupinski said.
Now he's going to stand up and try to tower over me, I thought. Must have learned that technique in an assertiveness seminar they made him attend.
Stupinski stood up. He teetered a little as he attempted to tower. I snuck a quick look down. As I suspected, he was wearing built up shoes with thick heels in an attempt to make himself look less short.
"We have some serious issues to discuss," he said. "We've had reports."
My eyes were now about level with Stupinski's mid-section. The skinny back part of his tie was much longer than the front. He'd tucked it into his pants.
"Reports?" I asked.
"Reports about the events of this morning."
"Events?" I asked.
"You may be under the impression that what you do at Chang is separate from what you do at Eng," Stupinski said. "But that is not the case at all. Chang and Eng are very much connected. What you do at Chang follows you to Eng. And vice versa."
"Vice versa?" I asked.
"I think you know exactly what I mean," Stupinski said. "Now, do you deny that you altered the lesson plan prepared by Ms. D'Santinence? Did you not play 'Erie Canal' out of sequence?"
Instead of answering, I slowly rolled my tongue across my upper lip and shifted my eyes. Stupinski's face got redder.
"And to threaten the students with Iggy Pop? I've never heard the like!"
I carefully ran my index finger across my upper lip, curled it down my face and under my chin.
"You walked into a delicate situation and made it worse. Mrs. Stalkoff herself reports that the children are all very upset."
Stalkoff, I thought. She never did like me.
"If I had any other options, I'd send you home right now. Why, I'd go in there and teach those classes myself, if only the union would allow it. Do you understand me?"
I could feel my headache coming back.
"Well, why are you just sitting there? Don't you know afternoon classes are about to start? Isn't it enough that you were late this morning?
AND YOU TURN YOURSELF AROUND
Thus chastened, I left for the office to get the lesson plan.
THURSDAY: The Hokey Pokey. (Whole class dances, boys dance, girls dance, row 1 dances, row 2 dances, and so on through the rows.)
I Hokey-Pokeyed properly through the first three classes, helped along by the fact that in the first two classes, the regular teachers, apparently having been forewarned, stayed in the room with their classes.
The stress was taking a toll, however. My headache had become so severe that at one point I dove behind the desk, certain that helicopter gunships were attacking. The students didn't mind. They went on shaking and turning as if I were irrelevant.
I only had one more class to get through.
YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT FOOT IN
The whole class danced. The boy in the front of row 1 did an exceptional job. I'd never seen such enthusiasm.
YOU PUT YOUR LEFT FOOT IN
The boys danced. The enthusiastic boy outshone them all.
YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT HAND IN
The girls danced. Enthusiastic boy jumped up to dance with them.
"That was very nice," I said to him. "But it was the girls' turn to dance. Please don't dance out of turn. It spoils the lesson plan."
YOU PUT YOUR LEFT HAND IN
Row 1 danced. Enthusiastic boy hoked and poked.
YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT SIDE IN
Row 2 danced. Enthusiastic boy could hardly restrain himself, but I stared him down for the duration of the song.
YOU PUT YOUR LEFT SIDE IN
Row 3 danced. Enthusiastic boy leapt up and joined in. He was playing to the crowd now, refusing to make eye contact with me.
At the end of the song I spoke sharply to him. "Now that's quite enough. I'm very disappointed in the way you keep dancing out of turn. It won't do."
The boy looked at me, but didn't say a word.
YOU PUT YOUR NOSE IN
Row 4 danced. As enthusiastic boy jumped from his seat, I screeched the needle across the record and stopped the song.
"You. Boy," I snarled. "Move once more and you can Hokey Pokey your way to the principal's office. Do you understand me?"
AND YOU SHAKE IT ALL ABOUT
It got very quiet. Then enthusiastic boy burst into tears. The rest of row 1 followed. In a flash the entire class began sobbing and wailing. In walked their regular teacher.
"What, ah, ah. Ah what."
She's actually sputtering, I thought. I didn't know people really did that.
But she quickly regained her composure. "What is going on here? What have you done to my children? This is an outrage!"
"I guess I'll be leaving then," I said. "Good afternoon to you."
As I pulled out of the school parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Stupinski in my rear view mirror. He was jumping up and down and shaking his fist at me.
THAT'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT!
When I woke up from my nap, I could hear FW banging around in the kitchen.
"Listen," I said. "I think I'm going to take Friday off and reassess my situation. This subbing isn't working out exactly as I'd planned. Tell your father thanks anyway."
"My father knows all about it. Parker called him. They won't be using you anymore. They say you played The Stooges to second graders, that you were smoking right in the principal's office, and that you slam danced a little boy who was doing The Bunny Hop."
"It's all true," I said. "Sometimes I just don't know what gets into me."
"Well, just because you won't be teaching tomorrow, don't think you can sleep in. My father needs you to pick up his truck at 6 and take a load of broken asbestos shingles to the dump."
"Great," I said. "No problem."
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