Mr. McC

I once had an asshole teacher.

No, that’s not accurate.  In my tenure as a student, I had a whole LOT of asshole teachers.  So, in light of that I’ll write it this way – In 6th Grade, I once had an asshole Social Studies teacher.  His name was Steve McCollum.  However, to protect him, I will call him Jack.

Photosource: CharlestonCityPaper.com

After 5th grade, I moved schools.  Merciless bullying made my previous school simply not an option anymore.  It was an all girls school where I played sports but since I was painfully shy, I didn’t really interact with anyone. Being called a fat bitch and having pranks pulled on you so often you cry everyday is not a good look. Add to it that I was fighting that battle completely alone, and you can see why I wasn’t motivated to “integrate.”  I write that not to gain sympathy (it led me to becoming me now and I really like me now) but to show what I was coming off of so you understand the depth of cruelty Jack displayed (which makes for better writing – huzzah!).

My new school was a Christian school in the middle of what used to be gigantic fields.  It was gorgeous and relatively new.  I was excited to start.  Excited, that is, until I went to Social Studies.

Photosource: nillaKennedy Flickr

Jack taught social studies and some other bullshit classes.  Jack coached the boys soccer team and clearly wanted to go pro at some point during his time as a player.  Jack also loved Diet Coke.  Now, let’s stop here.  When I say Jack “loved Diet Coke” I mean in such an unhealthy way, he would tell his students that we could get extra credit if we brought him Diet Cokes or Diet Coke memorabilia from different parts of the country/world.  It was the height of an addiction made socially appropriate because it’s soda, not meth.

Jack also liked to consider himself the “cool” teacher that was popular with the ladies and soccer players.

Photosource: heavy.com

On top of his issues with addiction, there was more that made class awesome.  Now, I don’t know how old Jack was, but I do know he was insecure enough to let the few students whose parents were relatively “famous” get away with murder.  Those of us who were shy, not that cute, and massively insecure got called out for the errors of others as well as openly shamed in front of our classmates.  Did I mention Jack is not a good person?

At-home projects reigned supreme in his classes.  He prided himself on being a difficult teacher (unless your name was Amy and your dad played for the Reds).  We often had these damn assignments on other countries where we had to dress up as the people of that country and do all this extra fluff of nonsense if we really wanted an “A”.  It was ridiculous.  Just let me write a damn essay, show some photos I found online, and be done with it.  Nope.  Other kiss asses brought in food, music.  I realized to keep up, I had to do the same.  My country was Switzerland.

So, I got the outfit:

Photosource: Travelpod.com

The food:

Photosource: Boston.com

And the rockin’ tunes:

Photosource: europeforvisitors.com

I was ready for my first time in front of a new school!

I also got my presentation date wrong.  I thought I was going the following week, but since a popular kid needed to change dates, my presentation got bumped up.  To be fair, I don’t remember if I was told or it was just expected that I was ready to go at any time.  This was, however, a common practice of Jack’s – making sure you were ready at any given moment to present.  So, if you brought in food, you had to keep making it (and no, I’m not joking/embellishing – did I mention how much this guy sucked?) if you didn’t get time to present that day.  Brought in an outfit? Prepare to keep wearing it, etc.  Ridiculous and a bit of exploitation.

Only half prepared, Jack had me get up and present anyway.  Terrified, I showed some photos from a family friend that had gone to Watch Country, passed out some Hot Chocolate and before I could play the music I had, he said, “Clearly Katie is not prepared.  Who is next?”  No, fuck face, Katie is nervous, at a new school and yes, ok, maybe a bit unprepared.  I’M SO SORRY MY DADDY DOESN’T PLAY FOR THE REDS, GUY.  WANT ANOTHER DAMN DIET COKE?!?!?!  I would like to say that the crazy came over me and I punched him in the face.  The reality is that I sat there and took it.  Oh, and for the record, I point out Amy because Jack wanted her to love him and she was horrible to me.  Also, she openly cheated on his tests and he never said a word to her.  I’m getting distracted by how much they both sucked.

Photosource: squidoo.com

Here’s all I’m asking – if you don’t actually WANT to be teaching, but you chose this route because it was the easier option than ACTUALLY becoming a kite designer, singer, writer, WHATEVER – please remember no one made you choose the easier option.  When faced with your “crossroads” in life, you thought, “What the hell – I’ll teach.”  Also, it is not the fault of a quiet kid that you, Jack, were made fun of in school or didn’t play soccer as well as you wanted.  That’s your fault for not practicing harder and not sticking up for yourself.  Stop perpetuating the cycle by shaming quiet kids.

And, this goes for everyone – STOP THE SHAME CYCLES!  WE’RE ALL INSECURE ABOUT SOMETHING!  Move on.

At the end of the day, I got a “C” on the project (the first “C” of my life) and I was devastated.  I tried bringing in fun Diet Cokes and doing extra credit to save my score, but that was met with mediocre reactions from Jack at best.

I recently saw he was friends on Facebook with people with whom I went to middle school.  You have NO idea how tempting it was to friend him and then blast all over Facebook that I just wrote a new blog about Middle School Social Studies so he was forced to read how heinous he was.  But hey, clearly I’m totally over it, so who cares, right?

Moral of the story: Shut up about your goddamn Diet Coke, follow your own dreams, and click here for some SWEET Swiss Jamz.