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”

Parents is Dumber – Texting Helps Your Kids Come Faster

Author’s Note: The following stories are all true. I’ve changed the names not only to safe face for the youth of today, but to save my own, as my job could probably be terminated should an authoritative type actually find this.

I’ve recently touched on the subject of parenting, basing all of my opinions on today’s youth and how they act in the classroom. How kids of today couldn’t live without a cellphone vibrating in their pockets for over 46 seconds. It’s the parents of today that perhaps need the education in etiquette.

I was on my lunch break the other day when a group of female students came into my class. One of them had to grab some missing work from some days she was absent, the others were there because they had nothing else to do.

It was about then when a male student of mine, let’s call him Steve, came into the classroom. He chatted with the girls a bit then headed towards my desk. The kid gave me a fist pounce before leaning towards me and asking, “Do you see that girl right there?”He pointed to one of the girls who was my student.

“Susie? Yes, I had her last period.”

He says, “Ah, I fucked her the other day,” then let out a laugh.

This kid is 16 years-old and the girl he pointed to is only 14. I wasn’t stunned at the fact that kids these young ages are fucking – you’d be a dumbass if you think your kid isn’t doing the same. But I was stunned at the fact that he just randomly told his teacher about his exploits, without showing any sort of respect for my title, age, or authoritative power. I gave him a lecture about how I am a lot nicer than other teachers but that doesn’t give him a reason to share his exploits with me. He has not shared any sort of information since then.

Susie often comes to my classroom during lunch with a group of 4-5 other students. Some of these students aren’t even mine – perhaps they see my classroom as a shelter from the storm of idiocy outside wandering about or in the cafeteria throwing food and openly talking about blow-jobs and “titty-fucking” (these are just a few of the examples I’ve heard while walking around).

Yesterday in class, Steve came up to me and told me he thinks he got someone pregnant. He told me with a smile on his face, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. I thought for a second about what I could tell him. Should I tell him that getting somebody preggers is the worst STD around when you’re that age? Should I tell him about The Three Ps?

I tried as best as I could to explain the severity of this notion. It wasn’t funny, cool, or cheap, and there definitely wasn’t a quick escape out of this one. This would last for at least 19 solid years.

Then I found out he was talking about 14 year-old Susie.

You know that movie Juno that came out a few years ago? About that pregnant white, 16 year-old suburbanite girl? I wasn’t so much a fan of that movie. When I saw it, I was pretty positive that the girl in that movie was too smart for her own good. 16 year-old white girls from suburbia aren’t that smart – they don’t know shit about Herschell Gordon Lewis (a really obscure filmmaker from the 60s – one of the best) or who the fucking Stooges are. They don’t. Want to bet me?

The first day of school this year, I ask my students a series of questions, as part of a “introduction” exercise. One of the questions was, “Who is Herschell Gordon Lewis?” Most thought it was my real name. The rest left it blank. Where do I live and teach? In the middle of suburban fucking America. And that shit won Best Original Screenplay… but I digress.


I Be Pregnant – Lol! (4/2009)

So 14 year-old Susie is pregnant. I couldn’t wait for lunchtime to roll around so her and her band of merry girls and boys would come to my class to eat their triangle tater-tots amongst the company of intelligence. I didn’t say anything about what I had heard.

She had no problem telling, out of nowhere, about the rumor going around about how she is pregnant. “It’s not true,” she said, after explaining how he wore a condom. I did nothing but shake my head.

However, I was a bit curious how this incident happened in the first place. So I asked how she got herself in such a situation. She began, “Well, he texted me out of the blue one day…”

I was too into that sentence to pay attention to the rest of her story. It all started with a simple text – and I hear stories like this all day. Anytime something happens that shouldn’t have, the story begins, “I got this text…” Variations include but are not limited to, “I got this text saying he fucked my mom…”; “I got this text saying to meet in the bathroom in 5 minutes…”; “I got this text saying she/he was ready…”

But I digress.

There are a million other teachers who would do the obvious “report to guidance or administration” to share these tales of childhood woe. And I have done that on many occasions only to find my efforts fail when their parents could care less. Perhaps I am just now desensitized to it all.

Now I think of these stories as mere entertainment. Is that wrong? These stories are better than Crank 2. The dramatics of high school seem to be at an all time high. If I had any sort of motivation, I’d be inspired to make a documentary.

Kids have always had sex – that’s just what they do. They did it in my generation, your generation, your parents generation; and they will continue to do so until out days end. When I lost my virginity during those lonely days of age 16, I didn’t run to school the next day to report it to my teacher. Nor did I send out a mass text to all my friends that read, “I fuk’d dat gurl finally, bro. It wuz sweet yo! Lol.”

Perhaps this generation gap is one which can’t be filled.

Read more “Parents is Dumber” by clicking these colored words.

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?

Charlie Got Punched…

I have no story today but I do have a picture. I’ll let your imagination create a story for this one.


Steak Can Cure That (3/2009)

Wow, I actually drew an entire person, not just the torso. Things may be happening for me after all.

“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)

Stupid 1st-Grader

When I was in 1st grade, my teacher, Mrs. Bowman, asked us to write a story about an animal and draw a picture to go with it. My story was about a snake. It was only about 3 sentences long, which is all she asked us to do, but I was a stupid little kid. I spelled “snake” wrong. Every time it was written.

So my story was called, “The Sad Snack”. Yes, I wrote a story that was intended to be about a snake, but instead it became about a lonely snack. After my teacher graded it, she called me to her desk. “You’re probably the dumbest kid in this class and you need to learn how to spell.” Some things never change.


The Snack in the Grass (11/2007)