You're An Idiot

It's funny the teachers you remember in life.  In first grade I had the most amazing teacher who I helped after school.  I was a bit of a scraggly kid and she made me feel so special.  She gave me my first lunchbox.  It was a used, metal Kermit the Frog box.  It was so cool.

Second grade was a pretty cool gal, too.  She was mesmerizing.  I loved when she would read out loud to us.  She was so animated and she was beautiful.  She had those lovely curly locks of brown hair.  Like, 80's style curly.  Big and soap-opera star-ish.

And there were some other stellar ones in the years that followed.  There were some real snooze-fest ones, too.  But I'll never forget the one that called me an idiot.

I was in high school and right there, in front of the whole class he said it.  It cut really deep.  It was a painful moment for me.  I was embarrassed and I tried to hide it.  What is unfortunate is that those brief and biting words from him are all I remember from that year-long class.  Anything else that dreadful meanie tried to teach me was lost.  If I can't quit recall what "personification" is or what "onomatopoeia" means it is likely his fault.  What a mean, mean old fart.  Teachers, watch your words.  We remember.

Oddly, in later years, I ended up waiting on him while serving tables.  It was a horrible and almost equally embarrassing experience again, because I made that dreadful assumption that I was greeting 2 guys instead of one old mean guy and his wife.  I pulled the "Good evening gentlemen" liner as I approached their table, only to discover as I made eye contact that the second "gentleman" was in fact an angry woman.  They gave me the look of death, and I stumbled out a strange apology.  In my defense, this was prior to my awesome laser eye surgery AND she did have silver Sinead O'Connor hair.  So, don't be mad at me- be mad at your hairdresser.  But anyway...

So the err was mine and it was definitely not intentional.  It was awkward because I had not seen this bothersome and irritable teacher for years and here he sat with his equally bitter-looking wife in crime.   In truth, she might be lovely and I didn't mean to hurt her feelings if that was the case.  But there they sat and the start to their dinner had been ruined by an idiot server.

I am not sure if he recognized me.  Did he?  We both played the role of strangers during that meal.  I couldn't help but wonder, as he sat there with his tightly pursed lips, whether he did in fact remember me as the idiot in his class.  He probably felt so warm inside knowing he had made the "right" judgment on me then.

But here I am today, sticking it to the man.  I write this blog and it ain't no Shakespeare.  I make run-on sentences and sometimes I mpslisl wdors.  And a lot of my sentences start with "And" and I know that is a cardinal sin in English language writing.  I am flipping him the bird each time I used incorrect grammar.  I called his wife, (unwittingly- but oh well) a he-woman and while I was sorry for her I am not sorry for him.  God has a funny sense of humor and the joke is on that mean teacher coz' this idiot ain't doin' too shabby.