It was mid-summer, when tiny, white butterflies flutter around blossoming carnations, in soft pinks or delicate cream shades. The sun plunges late in the day and every soul prefers to be outdoors rather than watching the world through smudged glass. It’s the season that induces drowsiness, the lure of drifting off. Yet, this time I was wide awake.
It was a standard lunch hour with my colleagues and they were discussing the teachers who taught their children. We usually sat in the fresh air, by a fountain implanted near a set of office towers. With the noonday sun blazing upon our heads, what kept me alert was the vitriol. How they described their children’s educators as lazy, incompetent and useless. That level of hate surprised me, made me wonder how they could form such an opinion and why teachers should deserve this tide of red.
If that wasn’t enough, a friend of mine who taught high school once described the majority of teachers as that awful label – ‘square’. In my ignorance, I personally backed that statement up when I was set up on a blind date with a teacher.
This was no ordinary teacher, he was part of a dynasty of teachers. His father is a principal, his twin brother a teacher and he, too, was in charge of shaping young minds.
Lord – he hurt my head. On the phone he described himself as tall, would be wearing a leather jacket. Sure enough, a tall, dark, hot stranger walked in wearing a beaten leather jacket. My loins thumped wildly until I realized that wasn’t him. Instead, what walked in was a science experiment gone wrong, a lumbering man in a Roots varsity jacket that may have been happening in some outdated collegiate atmosphere, and well, his hot factor? I recall him being the secret love child of Chris Farley and Jay Leno.