Stuff Your Kids Say: The Dinosaur Kid

The lady (her name is Kimberly) works at a private school for little (rich) kids. Often times, she comes home from work and shares with me these stories of hilarity. Mostly involving the weird and silly things kids say. Kids of the younger persuasion are the best types to hold a conversation. They really do say the craziest things. The other day, she told me of such a conversation. Continue reading “Stuff Your Kids Say: The Dinosaur Kid”

The Library is the Best Place to Take a Pregnancy Test…

If you’ve been a loyal follower of this blog over the past 2.5 years, you’d know of my struggles to get into graduate school. Well, all these years later, I finally got into a school’s graduate program; Florida State University in fact. This summer semester marks my first entry into the program and I will be enrolled full time for the span of a year.

But I’m not here to bore you with that.

It’s about 1:31am on Monday morning. I’ve been in the library for about 3 hours doing school related work. A few minutes ago, the lady gets up to go to the bathroom – normal procedure. When she gets back, she smiles and says, “You’ll never believe what I just saw in the handicap stall.”

I’m thinking she saw a battleship someone forgot to flush, or maybe a used-maxipad artwork splattered on the floor. Never had I ever prepared for what she actually saw there.

“There was a pregnancy test just lying there.”

“Really? Was she pregnant?”

Gladly for us, meaning “the world”, this girl was not pregnant. Because anyone who takes a pregnancy test in the public library at a fine university just shouldn’t be blessed to breed.

No Abortion for this Student! (6/2010)

Parents is Dumber – This is Why Your Kid Has Sex With Teachers

Let me preface this by saying this story may upset some of you. I’m sorry. It deals with the simple issue of teachers having sex with students. While I understand that some of these stories in the media stem from force (an issue I am certainly not discounting); this particular tale deals instead where the relationship happens because of consent from both parties. You see, I was brought up in a way such that I was the only one responsible for my actions. My mom never blamed anyone for anything wrong I ever did. She didn’t blame society, video games, or the music I listened to. And I love her for it. Parenting today, however, believes not in these things. They put responsibility on anything that isn’t their own kid or even their crappy parenting abilities. Fuck that. So if this story grosses you out or makes you angry, sorry, but you’re probably part of the problem. Regardless, pass this to your friends.

The parental front has taken a rather huge hit in recent years. Part of the problem here is that we have babies raising babies. You’ve heard that saying before. I’m currently 29 years-old. I teach kids who are only 12-13 years-old. Some of their parents are younger than me, which means they had their child at 15 or 16… how mature do you think they were?

I taught high school for a year. Freshman, 14-15 years-old. It was pretty excruciating – especially since it was my first year. Brutal. That isn’t to say I didn’t have any good kids, because I did, but I was teaching all lower level kids. A lot of them had no support at home so their educational lessons went wasted. That’s a huge part of the problem because 50% of the educational process happens at home, no matter what you think. If you don’t support and encourage your child’s education each night, you’re going to lose them. If you don’t care, they don’t care. And if they don’t care, the classroom will be full of degenerates.

So check on your kid’s education. Take an interest in what they learned and make it all seem special and important. Only you can help shape the next president or writer or astronaut or scientist. We don’t need anymore toothless fast-food employees. We have enough.

But this isn’t the moral of this tale. I was rambling, you crazy ramblers. Let me get to the point.

There has been a lot of stories in the media about teachers forming sexual relations with students. It happens more and more often as time goes by. Being a teacher myself, I could never understand how a person in my field could bring myself to have sex with someone they help educate. Not to mention the fact that these kids are underage. That doesn’t seem to matter to these people though. Regardless, students are not to be our friends and lovers. They are children with a desire for education. How can the responsible adult try to change their desire for knowledge into a desire for cock?

There were the thoughts that ran through my head before I was a teacher on the front lines. Before I actually understood what was actually going on in a classroom. Before I knew how your son or daughter actually spoke to a teacher — or even looked at them. Teaching 9th grade for one single year has allowed me the fortune to deduce a new hypothesis: It’s not entirely the teacher’s fault.

“Whoa, wait a second dude. How can a child be responsible for such an atrocity?”

When I was a kid, I knew that it wasn’t right to stick my cock in a teacher’s vagina. I mean, teacher’s are mostly at fault. They no doubt get it started. But there is more to it than that. Taking any responsibility off the children is simply idiotic.

I’m semi-young. Students treat younger teachers a little different than older ones. They are way more friendly towards us. Some girls have even sought my advice on one-too-many-a-personal-issue. Things I would never even imagine talking to a teacher about. Two girls last year even told me that they wish they had a father like me. One of their fathers was dead; the other was in jail.

Moreover, the thing that surprised me most last year was the amount of cleavage I was exposed to. It was simply unavoidable (and disgusting). It never ceased to amaze me how much cleavage some 14 year-old girls are blessed cursed with.

Remember my bit about babies raising babies? Thanks to that, these young girls know what they are packing and exactly how to use it. Or use them, whatever. Guys flock around girls with the most cleave and smarter girls know how to use that to their advantage. These guys will do anything for the girl with the most cleavage.

Teen Tits for Jailbirds (5/2010)

So how do you let your kid walk out the fucking door with their tits flopping all over the place. You have to know that your kid has the breasts of a supple porn star, right? Why do you buy them shirts that allow these things to say hello to the world?

“But I can’t watch my kid every minute of the day – I trust them to get themselves ready and make it to school on time. I have to get ready for work too, you know! Asshole!”

I’m not saying you can’t live your life and take care of your own stuff.

But don’t be surprised when the police show up to your door and inform you that your child just rode her science teacher in the back of a minivan in the parking lot of an abandoned K-Mart. Or that she blew another student in the bathroom and then let him cum all over her sweet treats afterwards.

I’ve worked at a school that had two sexual problems between teachers and students in one tumultuous year. Who were the teachers? Men – between 30 and 40 years of age. – unhappily married. What do you think they are going to do when a girl shows them some batted eyelashes and a peak at their tits (thanks to their scantly shirts)? Their misery allowed their retarded decisions to happen.

But your fatuous parenting styles gave it birth.

Parents Is Dumber – How American Parenting is Destroying Society

This piece was originally written by me a few months ago in an attempt to get published in some educational journal or literary magazine or something. As it progressed, I realized that sometimes my dreams are just too big. So I’ll post it here for you guys. And soon I will tell you where I’ve been for the past 2 weeks…

I used to think my childhood was rough. During my younger years, I used to think my mother was as evil as they came – even my friends never wanted to come to the house. She was so vocal about everything and her voice was strong enough to pierce through a mountain made of solid diamond. I hated living in her house when I was a kid. But now that I am older, wiser, and a touch on the bald side, I can honestly say that I am now a bit thankful for those rough years. Because of her strict regiment of shouting and debasing me at every available turn, I think it’s safe to say that I turned out to be a pretty decent human being because of it.

It was only about a year or two ago that I thought about becoming a teacher – a shaper of young minds if you will – and this is something I never quite thought I would actually do. Today, I am currently a 9th grade English teacher at a public school in the glorious (and by “glorious” I mean “awful”) state of Florida.

The first day of school was nothing shy of brutal. I walked in with a million questions. What kind of kids would I have? Would they be troublemakers as I once was at their age? Would any of them actually want to learn a thing or two from the curriculum? Would they like me? Would they care about anything other than the cell phones in their pocket or who is saying what on their Myspace accounts? I left that day with all of those questions unanswered.

The first semester is about to end. I have had these students for 18 weeks and in that time, I’ve learned more than I ever cared to. For example, each and every one of them has a cell phone on their person at each and every minute of the day. My school has a strict “No Cell Phone” rule that is ignored by 102% of the student body. They’d rather text than listen to the importance and significance of literature, Frederick Douglas, Shakespeare, and capitalizing words at the beginning of each fucking sentence.

When I first started, I’d make my kids write something every day – a simple composition where they would have to use critical thinking skills in order to answer a question about something we’ve read. I can’t tell you how many 14-year-old American children use things like “LOL” in a paper they have to turn in for a grade. It’s quite scary. The following story is something I will quote from a student’s work but I will not use their name. This is actually something that was turned in to me and after getting to know this child more and more as the year progressed I realized that this was indeed their best attempt at writing. They simply knew nothing more.

We were reading a short story called “The Open Window” about a neurotic man who moved to a new town and decides to meet all of his neighbors. So he shows up at this one house where a little girl creates this fantastical story about ghosts and such. The man panics and leaves, confirming his state of social retardation for the rest of his days. I asked my students to create a fiction and answer the following question: Who do you think will walk through this door next and what will they want? It was something simple to keep them busy while I took attendance and such. This anonymous student provided the following snippet of Pulitzer Prize winning material, complete with how they think proper punctuation should look like.

Theys gonna be 5 top modls walkin threw that door. They gonna come right for me and all the ladies be hollerin. Then theyll take me out this class wit them cuz they need to go wit em someweres. My teacher will be like oh damn were he goin’? but he ain’t gonna be able to hold them back.

That’s the long short of it. I’ve saved that paper in my desk drawer as a reminder of our futures. Today’s kids aren’t like us at all, though it seems that every generation is afraid of their youth. Not as afraid of them as I am now. This is a generation of the selfish, the gross, and the inconsiderate. If it isn’t on their phone or Myspace page, they don’t care for it. They talk to their parents as if talking to a friend. I guess that’s the point after all. When did parenting stop and friendships begin?

I’ve made over 60 phone calls home to parents about children misbehaving or failing. I think only 4 of those calls made a difference. The others would come into class the next day and laugh at my efforts and implore me that their parents don’t care. At first I wouldn’t believe them – my administration told me to never take their word for something like that. Then I would see how they would continue to misbehave or fail or not pay attention to the lesson just to get another text in or two to their friends down the hall.

I take cell phones all the time in my class. That’s the school’s policy – if we see a phone, we take it and turn it in the office. A few months ago, I took this girl’s phone. She spent the rest of the period pleading with me – “please, my mom doesn’t get off work until the school closes” – and on and on. I then told her that I stay late a few nights a week so she can come to my classroom to collect it if she’d like. So the mother came in, all irritated looking, because she was upset that her kid was using the phone in class. The mom tells me, “You won’t have to worry about this again sir, I am terrible sorry. I am going to take her phone away for a week.” Her daughter was with her – the girl I took the phone from. As she walked towards my door to leave, she begged her mom not to take the phone away. What happened next? After 4 seconds of begging, her mother handed her phone back. Lesson fucking learned.

What do kids need cellphones this badly for anyway? It’s not like they are helping prevent rape or kidnapping – just read the fucking news. Back in our day, if your kid was talking to someone on the phone, you’d be able to keep track of it, via caller ID or straight-up stalking. If someone wanted to talk to us, they’d have to call our house. That way our parents would actually be familiar who we were talking to. There be a bit of control – or parenting – involved.

Cellphones make all of this impossible. Sure, you can read the incoming/outgoing numbers and times on the bill when it comes at the end of the month. But that’s often to late. Your daughter has moved on to blowing someone different in the bathroom at school by this time.

“Wait, what?”

Oh yeah, you’d be pretty shocked with how often blow-jobs happen in a school bathroom these days. Thanks to text messaging, this sort of thing can be planned in a matter of seconds. We’ve even bust kids having actual sex in the bathrooms – it’s that crazy. And we wonder why so many of our children are turning into Juno.


That is Probably Your Kid (3/2009)

I found out yesterday that I am not being re-hired at my school next year. I am not sure if it is because of my lack of experience, budget cuts, or if I genuinely suck as a teacher, but I can’t say I am all that sad about it. I’ve learned a lot this year, tons actually, that would make me a much better teacher next year. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to muster the strength to give it another shot, especially considering how parenting is ruining the classroom environment. What would be the point?

The Story of Cletis

So this is a tale, my good readers; one that will surely stretch the threads of your imagination. But you must realize it to be true. I would never steer you wrong, especially when you’ve been so kind to me throughout the months. No matter how strange this story seems, you have to understand that it really happened. I was there and I witnessed it in its entirety. I was at a gas station sometime last year. There was a line and I was in it, bored, looking around at things. There was a man behind me, probably aged 35. I couldn’t see his legs – they were invisible – so I could only deduce that he was wearing camouflage pants.

I happened to notice that right under the counter above was a display for gift cards. This gas station had gift cards for every store/restaurant ever – it was a amazing. They had them for Blockbuster, AMC Theaters, Regal Theaters, Home Depot, Chili’s, Applebees, Olive Garden, Wendy’s, iTunes, Rhapsody… this list goes on an on. They had an amazing selection of gift cards for being just a simple gas station. I thought people only went to gas stations to get gas, beer, smokes, and beef jerky. Learn something new every day.

There was also a gift card for Barnes and Noble. Without even thinking, I commented outloud, “Barnes and Noble gift cards? Who comes to a gas station to get a gift card to a book store?” That funny man I described earlier, who was standing behind me, started to laugh a bizarre, mentally challenged-sounding laugh. Some of the other patrons laughed to. Perhaps they were laughing at him? I don’t know. But it’s about this time when the unthinkable happened. Something that took me by surprise. I should have known then, however, that living in Florida brings out the oddest treats.

This guy – I call him Cletis every time I tell this story – then said, “Man, I ain’t ever read no book in my entire life.” He said that proudly, as if he was the smartest man in the universe and he got that title without ever having to read. But I didn’t believe him.


We Don’t Need Education Dollars (3/2009)

I quickly retorted with, “So you’ve never read Green Eggs and Ham or The Cat in the Hat?” I thought the suggestion of Dr. Seuss classics would jog his memory because who hasn’t read these? “No man,” Cletis said. I shot out some more simple childhood titles but he still denied me. “How did you get through elementary school without have to read anything?” I asked.

“I didn’t get too far in school.”

That was it. He was done laughing. All he wanted now was to purchase his Natural Light brew and go home to his trailer or whatever to party. Poor Cletis. Part of me wanted to teach him to read right there in the gas station, the other part of me wanted to destroy his existence.

I’ll never forget that story. Was he lying? I don’t know. He was pretty convincing. But why would he brag about something like that? Finding out a 30 year-old man, who is clearly allowed to have his driver’s license, can’t/won’t read. I guess being able to read stop signs should be enough for me. Clearly it’s enough for him.

And yet our government keeps taking away money from education. If these results are yielding such fine products as Cletis, what will happen to the rest of us in the future? It’s only going to get worse. Who gives a fuck if we have plenty of people to man fast-food jobs. Who is going to be able to handle anything else? That movie Idiocracy may have presented the closest thing to an actual future I can figure.

“But I ain’t gonna argue with you no more.”

Firstly, I would like to inform you that the general miserable nature of said post isn’t something that is going to last around here. Tomorrow I’ll be back with dinosaurs and turtles. Today is a bit different though. So sorry about that.

I write to you today with a great deal of dread and disappointment. Readers of mine may recall my recent struggles with preparing myself for admissions into graduate school. Or, should I say, the “graduate admissions process” rather. It’s a rocky road and these past many months have been just as rocky. I took the GRE that said schools beg you to take when you apply, and bombed it worse than Hiroshima.

But I applied for all of these graduate programs, in English, Film Studies (which is basically for film journalism), and actual Journalism. I thought these would be good stepping stones for my continued educational success, as I have 4 years of writing experience with Film Threat, some freelance work with the Orlando Weekly (and other publications), and the fact that I have enough festival experience to drown a space shuttle. All of this worthless, unfortunate, miserable, and basically pay-less experience resides on the lonely pages of my resume. It’s like a document of pointlessness.

People tell you your whole life that “working hard, pays off.” I want to find out who invented that slogan and slit their throat, kill their unborn babies, and stomp on their eyeballs. “Wait dude, why so bitter at your age?” My friend Frank co-runs a website dedicated to a new phenomenon called the ‘quarter life crisis’. It’s like a midlife crisis for we fine young adults, in our mid-20s, searching for a purpose. You can check it out here.

I’m mere inches away from turning 27. I know, that shit isn’t old at all. It’s still quite young actually, to some. But I am going balder than my 86 year-old grandfather, I have no set career path, debt up to my balls (like most people I guess), no real skills worth anything outside of poverty wages, and now, I’ve been denied admissions into more than half of the programs I’ve applied to so far, including the one I wanted to get into most. “Dude, you’re so young. Calm down. Something will come.” Shut the fuck up you.

I don’t give a fuck about age. Age isn’t paying the bills, is it? Age isn’t really bringing me anything, now is it? Is there a point for me to write another word in my life? Sure, I love it – especially the words here – but everything I write outside of here is basically worthless. No one gives a shit about film criticism anymore. And if they did, my words aren’t worthy of a paycheck.

“Doing what you’re passionate about is all that matters.” Fuck that philosophy too. Passion doesn’t write a rent check these days. At least in my world anyway. But this isn’t me being negative or anything like that. So don’t think I’m looking for pity. Instead, think of this as a way to describe the picture I accidentally drew today.


Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head (3/2008)

Pardon me while I teach your kid…

Today I start a very important journey. You see, being a fresh college graduate, there a lot more opportunities to make the same shitty salary I already am. So what better way to earn such a horrific amount of coin than by shaping the young minds of America? Yes, you heard me right. I am going to be a teacher in the public education system. High school English students will feel my wrath over and over.

Imagine me, so full of wondrous imagination and violent profanity, education the youth of today. I often read stories about high school kids fucking their teachers (the teachers are almost 90% female, oddly… where were these bitches when I was in school?). Not only will I not have to worry about high school girls coming on to me for a better grade, thanks to the gift’s of my being, I’ll never have to worry about the cops showing up at my door. This ride is going to be all about the education, not the fornication. Get your kids ready…