FreddyMuscle
Rookie
- May 13, 2013
- 14
- 1
- 1
An Open Letter to High School Students
I often wonder why I chose to become a teacher. In the beginning, I was a believer out to change the world. Now I settle for summers off. A distasteful change has taken place. Ive traded outlook for overlook, industry for ire. Is this preordained penance for some karmic-deficit from a previous life or is altruism merely trumping my common sense? Im writing to you in the hopes that together we might find the answeran answer thats been buried under years of callous injury. Im sorry that you dont already know what I know but its hardly my fault. And its no wonder Ive lost the plot. I spend my day amongst you soul-sipping Versace-clad vampires when Id rather be shaking my fist from the bell tower.
Is that wrong? Is the sum total of my existence now reduced to stop-gapping your slow-leaking egos with my own self-worth? You demand respect. You offer disdain. You force me to wade through your weapons-grade sense of entitlement but, you cant get past your own hedonistic notions of individual privilege. You hit the target but miss the point. You convey but dont convince. Pardon me for recoiling from your specious outrageits not the vacillation I mind; its the volume.
I can stomach the incessant cherry-cheeked white noise emanating from your insult-laden insolence, but after I sift through the wafer-thin patina of your blatant prevarications; all that remains is the steady drip, drip, drip of your insipid meanderingsthe meaningless import of your profane pronouncements; the random oration in your venomous verdicts. Like some indignant moralizing gossip, youre always the last to give up the conch. Your myopic world view is reassuringly one dimensional and the joke is at your expense. Why is it that you laugh the loudest? Congratulations. Irony is wasted on the comforted. And I hate myself for being party to your tenuous foot-hold on civility.
Im aghast at your blissful, boiling-frog indifferencethe casual way you steep in your own ignorance. You seek solitude amidst the reflection of a thousand carbon-copies. Yet, you leave traces behind. Emboldened by the sacrosanct certitude of your smug affirmations, you goose-step through your day like downtrodden fascist lemmings coming ever closer to the edge. In your haste to derive benefit, you raise a dust-cloud of resentment. In your rush to make a difference, you trip on your own lack of perspective. Your hair-trigger attitudes are as unpredictable as they are incendiary. You smolder with violent proclivities and cast the embers to the winds. And despite your pathetic posturing, I might even buy into your pampered mendacity if I didnt already have a front row ticket to your perpetual freak show.
Youd get what you want if your tone wasnt so insufferably acidicif you didnt throw in extra syllables like youre chambering-up more ammo; where a simple I know becomes an admission that you built the Ark (I know-ah) all performed in descending register for maximum effect. Is it really so hard to take Yes for an answer?
Blind puppies in a sack, you shuffle aimlessly through the halls; compelled to entangle us in your foul-mouthed diatribesyour manufactured dramasyour non-stop talentless auditioning. Were invited in only to defend ourselves while you leap at the chance to kra maga your over-sized concept of personal space. Its not that Im offended by the way you parade your half-dressed adolescence; its the carefree self-indulgent effronterythe absent-minded exhibition, that I find so disagreeable. Its nothing but unpaved street theater; bone-jarring spectacle for the masses. Maybe if you werent hiding behind designer-phones and taking up my parking space, I could make some sense of your grasping lurch for celebrity. Dont tell me what you deserve while earning my contempt.
You exude all the charm of Hannibal Lechter and wonder why I dont throw myself on your plate. You circle the wagons around your own misconceptions and expect me to care. You cast empathy down an emotional fox-hole while insisting that I heal the bruises leftover from people touching you with ten-foot poles. Im puzzled at what you hope to achieve by alienating those within your sphere of flatulence. The pain you inflict is needless. We all have bad days; most of us dont expect to find relief in the open-air chaos of public humiliation. Seriously, what are you thinking? Or not?
I ignore the furtive glances that signal misdemeanor and you think because I forego, I forbear; because I forgive, I forget. You think Im blind; but its you, hurrying to go nowhere like a hamster in a wheel, who truly cant see. You get it over; but you dont get it done. You skim the detail and skip the point. You draw to an inside straight while raging against the Deal. You adorn yourself in glitter then pursue invisibilityshut the window then curse the view. Surpriseno compromise.
And while you endeavor to avoid the ever-vigilant eye of the priggish hallway fashionistas; your Lord of the Flies existence extends a fleeting and flirtatious promise that one day itll be you thats perched on the top rung like some lemon-harangue gargoyle. You want so desperately to matter; your self-anointed prerogative cant come soon enough. But you never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity and I tilt at the windmill of your flapping arms. You have only yourself to blame.
Weve reached a crossroads, you and I. While I anguish at futility of making a connection; you collude to keep us apart. While I hold out hope for your future; you fail to see past tomorrow. In the end, perhaps your frenetic lethargy and calculated coarseness will triumph. But if you are gambling that Ill grow weary of the chase; you are betting against the houseand the odds are not in your favor. I persistunbowed, unbroken, unrepentantand ready for class.
Take your seat and lets get started.
Signed:
A Teacher in Baltimore
I often wonder why I chose to become a teacher. In the beginning, I was a believer out to change the world. Now I settle for summers off. A distasteful change has taken place. Ive traded outlook for overlook, industry for ire. Is this preordained penance for some karmic-deficit from a previous life or is altruism merely trumping my common sense? Im writing to you in the hopes that together we might find the answeran answer thats been buried under years of callous injury. Im sorry that you dont already know what I know but its hardly my fault. And its no wonder Ive lost the plot. I spend my day amongst you soul-sipping Versace-clad vampires when Id rather be shaking my fist from the bell tower.
Is that wrong? Is the sum total of my existence now reduced to stop-gapping your slow-leaking egos with my own self-worth? You demand respect. You offer disdain. You force me to wade through your weapons-grade sense of entitlement but, you cant get past your own hedonistic notions of individual privilege. You hit the target but miss the point. You convey but dont convince. Pardon me for recoiling from your specious outrageits not the vacillation I mind; its the volume.
I can stomach the incessant cherry-cheeked white noise emanating from your insult-laden insolence, but after I sift through the wafer-thin patina of your blatant prevarications; all that remains is the steady drip, drip, drip of your insipid meanderingsthe meaningless import of your profane pronouncements; the random oration in your venomous verdicts. Like some indignant moralizing gossip, youre always the last to give up the conch. Your myopic world view is reassuringly one dimensional and the joke is at your expense. Why is it that you laugh the loudest? Congratulations. Irony is wasted on the comforted. And I hate myself for being party to your tenuous foot-hold on civility.
Im aghast at your blissful, boiling-frog indifferencethe casual way you steep in your own ignorance. You seek solitude amidst the reflection of a thousand carbon-copies. Yet, you leave traces behind. Emboldened by the sacrosanct certitude of your smug affirmations, you goose-step through your day like downtrodden fascist lemmings coming ever closer to the edge. In your haste to derive benefit, you raise a dust-cloud of resentment. In your rush to make a difference, you trip on your own lack of perspective. Your hair-trigger attitudes are as unpredictable as they are incendiary. You smolder with violent proclivities and cast the embers to the winds. And despite your pathetic posturing, I might even buy into your pampered mendacity if I didnt already have a front row ticket to your perpetual freak show.
Youd get what you want if your tone wasnt so insufferably acidicif you didnt throw in extra syllables like youre chambering-up more ammo; where a simple I know becomes an admission that you built the Ark (I know-ah) all performed in descending register for maximum effect. Is it really so hard to take Yes for an answer?
Blind puppies in a sack, you shuffle aimlessly through the halls; compelled to entangle us in your foul-mouthed diatribesyour manufactured dramasyour non-stop talentless auditioning. Were invited in only to defend ourselves while you leap at the chance to kra maga your over-sized concept of personal space. Its not that Im offended by the way you parade your half-dressed adolescence; its the carefree self-indulgent effronterythe absent-minded exhibition, that I find so disagreeable. Its nothing but unpaved street theater; bone-jarring spectacle for the masses. Maybe if you werent hiding behind designer-phones and taking up my parking space, I could make some sense of your grasping lurch for celebrity. Dont tell me what you deserve while earning my contempt.
You exude all the charm of Hannibal Lechter and wonder why I dont throw myself on your plate. You circle the wagons around your own misconceptions and expect me to care. You cast empathy down an emotional fox-hole while insisting that I heal the bruises leftover from people touching you with ten-foot poles. Im puzzled at what you hope to achieve by alienating those within your sphere of flatulence. The pain you inflict is needless. We all have bad days; most of us dont expect to find relief in the open-air chaos of public humiliation. Seriously, what are you thinking? Or not?
I ignore the furtive glances that signal misdemeanor and you think because I forego, I forbear; because I forgive, I forget. You think Im blind; but its you, hurrying to go nowhere like a hamster in a wheel, who truly cant see. You get it over; but you dont get it done. You skim the detail and skip the point. You draw to an inside straight while raging against the Deal. You adorn yourself in glitter then pursue invisibilityshut the window then curse the view. Surpriseno compromise.
And while you endeavor to avoid the ever-vigilant eye of the priggish hallway fashionistas; your Lord of the Flies existence extends a fleeting and flirtatious promise that one day itll be you thats perched on the top rung like some lemon-harangue gargoyle. You want so desperately to matter; your self-anointed prerogative cant come soon enough. But you never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity and I tilt at the windmill of your flapping arms. You have only yourself to blame.
Weve reached a crossroads, you and I. While I anguish at futility of making a connection; you collude to keep us apart. While I hold out hope for your future; you fail to see past tomorrow. In the end, perhaps your frenetic lethargy and calculated coarseness will triumph. But if you are gambling that Ill grow weary of the chase; you are betting against the houseand the odds are not in your favor. I persistunbowed, unbroken, unrepentantand ready for class.
Take your seat and lets get started.
Signed:
A Teacher in Baltimore
