being called miss outside of the bedroom is a weird and strange thing.
becoming a teacher constantly reminds me of what a horrible student i was, what horrible teachers i had (in terms of proper teaching techniques), and how horrible we both were in our separate and distant classroom roles. the things i got away with, but more specifically, the way my teachers would deal with me afterward, would make my professors weep in disgust if they witnessed such things.
in grade twelve i was a source of disruption at times.. a constant source of disruption in my philosophy class, admittedly. eventually, it was mentioned after one class that if i could not respect my peers or my teacher enough to remain quiet for the duration of the period, i should not bother to attend.
so i happily blew off class for a week or so. an extra period to chain smoke outside and contemplate all the stresses weighing down my seventeen year-old mind, was necessary and a longtime coming.
come friday, however, i was spotted in the hallway by the irked teacher of the philosophical variety. instead of receiving a good ol’ fashioned tongue-lashing, and a guilt trip that you’d have to fly to because driving would take weeks, i received an apology. i also received an invitation back to class (golly gee!) and was assured no penalty for skipping class all week. i arrived to class on monday, maybe on time, probably smelling of cigarettes and knock-off perfume, to see a pleasant surprise!
candy.
the teacher bought me candy.
if any of my students acted like i did in that class, and then skipped because they were trying to be some sort of a rebellious, stubborn bitch, candy would not be in my arsenal of techniques to deal with them. i may be new to this whole teaching thing, but i am quite certain cunty students do not deserve candy when they lack remorse, or show any signs of taking class seriously.
the teacher was warm and apologetic when welcoming me back at the beginning of class. and i sat, with a mouth full of guilt-candy and every intention to cut class later that week.
it is memories like these that make me wonder what i ever did to have my teachers eating out of my hand.
or, i eating out of their candy dishes, perhaps is better phrasing.
