Be Kind to the Elderly

A long time ago, having just graduated from college, I accepted a job at Randomville High School, my alma mater.

I wanted to quit after the first year. But everybody kept saying, "The first year is always the hardest; it'll be easier next year." So I stuck it out, only to have the Worst Year Ever, and then I quit, vowing never to teach again.

The only bright spot that year was my speech class. I taught two sections of Theater Arts I: Speech Communication, and they were all that kept me from resigning in October of that year.

I was closer to one class than the other; oddly, it was the class full of weed-smokers and wiccans. I guess I liked that they were more open, or more willing to put themselves up for humiliation in the name of Art. At any rate, I learned a lot from them, and I hope they learned a lot from me.

So I found out yesterday that one of the students who was in that class has joined the staff of Randomville High. She is a teacher now.

I am horrified.*

And OLD. Very, very OLD.

*not because I doubt that she would be a wonderful teacher, but because it means I am ancient

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