Out In Public

Being a teacher is like being a celebrity, but it’s far less glamorous and your annual salary is equivalent to their Thursday night bar tab at a place probably called “Mood” or “Puzzles”. I am talking of course about the fear of going out in public. Celebrities are constantly bombarded by fans, paparazzi, and people that want to kill them and wear their skin on their face. They have the luxury of employing 400lb body guards with biceps the size of tree trunks and have an army of lawyers that will destroy anyone who so much as sneezes in their general direction. Teachers face an even greater danger while venturing out into the real world: their students. Unlike their famous counterparts, teachers enter this world without protection. They run the risk of being accosted unarmed and without warning. Any teacher will tell you that they hate seeing their students outside of school. We already have to spend all day with them, we don’t want to have to speak with them on our personal time, during which we would rather be nursing that 4^th glass of wine or weighing the pros and cons of purchasing another pair of elastic waist sweat pants. Your students always seem to find you when you want to see them the least, like when you’re buying underwear, or dandruff shampoo, or Gilmore Girls Season 6 on DVD. 

Once they spot you, they want to talk, and, if they are younger, they are most likely with their parents, which means you have to talk to them too. I NEVER want to talk to parents. That is the worst part about teaching, because every parent thinks the sun shines out of their kids ass. Don’t get me wrong, some kids are really great. Teachers always have their favorites and I am no exception. In those instances, I am more than happy to chat with their parents about how wonderful their child is and thank them for not implementing what I call the “Dina Lohan School of Parenting.” This was the case at my last school, great kids and great parents. But there is a snowball’s chance in hell of you running into one of those students while out on the town. You always run into the student that you don’t want to see, the student you yelled at yesterday, the student who lost recess, or didn’t turn in their homework, or hasn’t showered since school started 4 months ago. What the hell do you do in that situation? I feel like colleges should offer a class called “Teaching- Outside the Classroom.” That way, they can introduce nervous undergrads to what they should expect when becoming a teacher. This situation should be on the course syllabus with several location addendum such as, “The Grocery Store- What you should do when your student/parent sees that all you are buying are 3 frozen pizzas, a gallon of ice cream, and a margarita bucket”, or “The Mall- What to do when your students see you shopping with your sister and they ask if it’s your girlfriend.” I feel this would both adequately prepare the future educators of our great nation as well as dramatically reduce the number of people who actually follow through with teaching.

Since no one taught you how to deal with your students or their parents outside of school, you do the only thing you can do: Lie. When they finally take you down, like a lion takes down a gazelle, and they begin polite small talk with you, you pepper in short little phrases about how talented and well behaved their son/daughter is and how it has been the greatest pleasure and highest honor of your teaching career to attempt to impart your knowledge on their brilliant and charismatic 6 year old. …And the academy award goes to… Then the parent asks you how you are and you think to yourself, “I have family sized bag of Doritos, when I clearly live alone, and I just rented Gnomeo and Juliette…yes, I am living the dream (Insert eye roll here).” But you answer politely and say that you are doing well, despite the fact that it is laundry day and you are wearing mesh shorts, flip flops, and the shirt you wore when you painted your living room. When the conversation ends and you say your goodbyes the child and their parents leave excited, because seeing a teacher outside of school is like “seeing a dog walk on its hind legs” (Mean Girls, circa 2004). You, however, leave with the need to move to another county and the desperate fear that they are going to tell their peers, which they ultimately do, because you weren’t humiliated enough. 

Even though I didn’t ever live in the same community as the students I taught, I did run into them quite frequently. They pop up out of nowhere, like those 2 girls from The Shining that want you to play with them forever. You just want to ride your tricycle around that creepy hotel in peace, but no, you’ve got those bitches cramping your style! I happen to always be doing something embarrassing when I run into students. When I went to go see Harry Potter 7, Part 1 with my parents, we decided to go to the nice theater across the river so that we could be more comfortable and see it on a bigger screen. While we sat there, I sitting in between my parents like this was my big day out with the grown-ups (I was 23), we saw some people enter with Icees the size of my torso. They were huge! The three of us made eye contact and decided we had to have them. I volunteered to go get them because no one would try to steal my seat in the middle of them, and made the ½ mile trek back to the concession stand. I purchased 3 child sized (and by child sized, I literally mean they were the size of a child) Icees and after the poor concession woman wrestled them into a carrying container, probably made of reinforced steel to support the weight of these monstrous iced treats, I turned around with a grin that I usually only possess on Christmas morning. Sure enough, one of my high school students is standing there, eyes wide, looking from me, to the 4 gallon icees in my hand, and back…I stutter, making a lot of nervous guttural sounds before blurting out, “THESE AREN’T ALL FOR ME!!!!” and then run as fast as I could while carrying the metal drums filled with cherry ice, back to the theater. Sure enough, that student told people on Monday, but the joke was on her, because I devoted 5 minutes of class time to tell my students the story so that they could hear it from my perspective. Clearly it was an excellent use of instructional time. In the end, we all got a good laugh out of it, and while that Icee was delicious, it came at an awful cost. 

I also had the great misfortune of running into a student at Wal-mart. I believe that, to be a successful and beloved teacher, you need to care about your students. I always do my best to keep the mood light, have some down time, and enjoy being there as they learn for the 40 minutes or so that I had them. I love holidays and so I try and give the students a little something to show them that I care and that I appreciate their efforts. It’s usually candy, or if it is a smaller group, delicious homemade baked goods. I was at Wal-mart, right before Christmas, raiding the candy isle, dumping bag after bag of 3 Musketeers, Kit Kat, and Milky Way bite sized bars (because none of those have peanuts in them…yeah, I am even conscious of the peanut allergy, THAT’S how thoughtful I am) into my cart, thinking to myself that I will use the self-check-out register to avoid judgment from any cashier. Then one of my 9^th grade students rounds the corner. She is with her mom and they are also looking for some reasonably priced holiday wrapped chocolate confections, when she spots me and comes over. I politely say hello and ask her if she has any exciting plans for break? (this question is perfect around vacation times because it is small talk, but not obvious or awkward, unless they say that they are going to their Dad and Step Mom’s house because their Mom wants some alone time with her new boyfriend…oh yeah, that happened to me.) When she looks in the cart, she sees all of the candy and I explain to her that it is for school tomorrow and she gets excited. She knew I was bringing in candy because I told my students I would in class earlier that week. Awkward moment averted, right? If only it were that easy. At that point, the girl’s mother is having a shit fit in the isle, digging in the back of the shelves looking for a particular candy. She gives up and, as she walks over to us, loudly says “HOW CAN THEY NOT HAVE ANY KIT KATS!?!?!?” She says hello and then looks down in the cart to see, what looks like, every bite sized Kit Kat bar in North America in my cart. To be fair, I taught over 250 students, so I needed a lot of candy, and who doesn’t like a good Kit Kat? The Mom then says “…Oh…” I smile weakly, feeling like I am being crushed by the cumulative weight of the candy overflowing from my cart and graciously part with 2 bags, as if making a peace offering. As they leave, I book it for the check-out area, only to find that none of the self-check-out registers are open, so I wait in line and suffer the judgment of the 18 year old girl checking all 457 bags one at a time.

Sometimes it is nice to see your students, but it is only nice if you see them on your own terms. The best is when you spot them and they don’t see you. Then you get to make the decision about whether or not to approach them. Oh, what power! High school students usually don’t want to see their teachers, especially not when they’re with their friends, so naturally, I always choose to approach them in these situations. I was at the mall one time and I saw a student sitting on a bench outside one of the stores. I never had this student, but I did work with him on the musicals that we did. His name was AJ and he was on the sound crew. Because I was wearing jeans and looked like a hobo, he didn’t recognize me, so I walked up to him when he wasn’t looking and said, “You look like you’re up to no good.” The look on his face was priceless. Aside from the fact that he almost fell off the bench, because I scared him, he didn’t immediately register that it was me. The poor kid thought some stranger wanted to make some creepy small talk and nearly died of fright. That will teach him to do his Christmas shopping there!

That situation was perfect, but sometimes, the approach backfires. Sometimes it backfires so bad that you wish the backlash had killed you, instead of leaving you socially wounded. I was at the mall (I really need to find a new mall) and I was shopping after Christmas with my Mom (can you tell I have no friends?). We had gone our separate ways and were going meet for lunch in the food court. I was early, so I walked at a leisurely pace, burdened by bags filled with new sweaters, sharpie pens, and all 5 Percy Jackson books, when I saw Joe, walking with his parents. Joe was in my period 3 Music Theory class and he always tried (unsuccessfully) to out humor me. We would go back and forth making fun of each other until I got bored and delivered a crushing blow to which he had no retort. He would then smile, laugh a little, and shake his head and say, “Whatever!” or “O.K!” This was my moment. Joe was with his family and I had met his Mom several times. I figured he would be embarrassed if I said hello and struck up a conversation, so naturally, I navigated straight over to them. After apologizing to the Chinese food sample lady for nearly killing her as my bag of sweaters came dangerously close to forcefully colliding with her face, I loudly exclaimed “Joe! How are you?” He turned around with a half smile and said hello as his mom enthusiastically jumped into conversation with me. She said “Oh, Joe is just doing a little after Christmas shopping with his Mom!” Joe looked tortured. Every high school boy LOVES to be seen shopping with his Mom. I gave him a smile that said, “hahahaha…BEST.DAY.OF.MY.LIFE.” when the unthinkable happened: My mom walked up. 

Catching the tail end of that conversation, my mom decided to add, “So is Kyle!” “I’m in hell”, I thought, “This is what hell is like.” I was shocked at how quickly the tables had turned. I saw Joe’s face light us as mine fell, contorting into a look of sheer horror, as his turned to one of deepest joy. In that moment, the power had shifted. Joe owned me. I practically saw his hand fly into his pocket, dig out his cell phone, and text everyone at the school. Not only did my mom embarrass me to the point of near death, she called me Kyle, killing any professional distance I had worked to maintain. I said a hurried goodbye as I furiously wheeled my mother around and dragged her to a vacant table. Needless to say, I had to devote another 5 minutes of class time to telling this story, during which all of the students laughed and Joe chimed in with his reactions and interpretations. Joe handled it well and didn’t publically humiliate me anymore than I deserved. The moral of this story: Get some friends and stop hanging out with your parents in public. It never ends well.