Why I'm Not a Teacher

Could extended proximity to educators increase your chances of becoming one?

If so, I dodged a rather large and possibly snot encrusted bullet. Don't get me wrong. I like kids. We're having one. I like teachers. My mother, sister, wife, AND mother-in-law are all...you guessed it...teachers.

It's a noble profession and I admire most anyone that gives it a try. It seems to be getting more difficult, though.

You see, at some point, the parents turned on the teachers. It's not like the old days when you got in trouble at school. In the old days, getting in trouble at school was just Phase One (depending on the severity of the offense, of course). If your transgressions were bad enough, your house got that dreaded phone call from the office. Phase Two would commence immediately after you got both feet in the door.

Hello ass-chewin'...and possibly ass-beatin'*. (*Remember kids, violence isn't the answer...it's just part of the answer.)

One day, parents started to believe their delusions that 'Little Billy' or 'Little Sally' couldn't have possibly:
a) used that kind of language.
b) been that disrespectful.
c) forgotten to do his/her homework (again!).
d) been that stupid.
e) tried to smuggle thermonuclear weapons into the classroom.

Guess what mom and dad? He/she did...and no amount of denial will ever change that.

This is why I'm not a teacher. I simply do not have the capacity to deal with that brand of stupid in a politically correct manner. I would probably shoot my mouth off with some smartass comment and get fired or punched...or both.