All the teachers here have to do some kind of club. I chose guitar club, because guitar club involves me sitting in my classroom and them far away playing guitar. I appreciate that my guitar heroes want me to leave them alone as much as I want them to leave me alone. Our relationship is symbiotic, that way.
I had to drive one of them home yesterday. He put his feet over the trash, told me where he lived, and we drove without speaking, just listening to The Black Keys.
I feel like I got gyped of shit like this, when I was 13. When I was in middle school, my favorite interaction with a teacher involved Ms. Baca tearing Howard Stern's Private Parts out of my hand during reading period. When I was done glaring and calling her a cunt in my head, I felt shame that I didn't think of a better soft-back cover to tape over the actual Private Parts cover. I had taped on top of it the cover of "Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret."
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