We All Make Mistakes

                I was 26 when I started teaching high school. I had a pretty great group of seniors who were not major behavior problems. I recall one of them saying, “It’s like you are our babysitter and we’re all the kids you babysit, not our teacher.” I’m sure the student meant it in the nicest of ways, but it certainly made me see that I was teaching and disciplining by the seat of my pants because equating me to a babysitter as opposed to a teacher did not suggest I was doing a very good job.
                That particular school was not solid in their curriculum guidelines. By that I mean most of what I taught or was supposed to teach was flexible and I could make up assignments or connections as I went. The students needed to read X number of texts and complete a senior paper. The paper was done in the fourth quarter on a topic of their choice in lieu of a final exam.
                I was no fool. I could see the likelihood of that project getting done with effort and care the same way I saw Paris Hilton working for a living – next to impossible. Sure, they could choose their topic but what did they really care? Almost all of them had been accepted into a college or program and like many other high school seniors, had senioritis since Halloween when they had the sole privilege to dress up and win a best costume contest. This didn’t make them poor students; it made them normal kids. I figured, in my infinite wisdom, that I would cut a deal with them because I knew their pain…and mine. I had to correct the papers. If every student got their paper in and completed 2 weeks before graduation, we could watch movies for the rest of the year.
                In hindsight, I can see why that tactic is ridiculous. At the time, it made sense. They were already done with school and the best way to keep them quiet was with movies. The administrators rarely came to my room or checked in on me. I had another class of at-risk students who I was able to keep in class, as opposed to being kicked out, so they left me alone. The good thing about high school kids is they are street smart, kind of. They no more wanted me to get in trouble for showing movies than they wanted to stop watching them. They weren’t going to say squat to any parent or adult for fear that they would be tortured with meaningless work the last few weeks of school. To say I was safe is an understatement.
                To say I was smart is another thing. I guess I assumed that if the kids had already seen it, what would be the big deal if they watched it again in school? That logic would work if it were say, Shrek, but it wasn’t Shrek, it was Old School and Old School is not appropriate for real school. I let the kids watch it anyway. Again, being naïve in my own way, I didn’t realize there were two versions of the DVD, one being unrated. I had the tv facing the kids and my back to the tv so I could use the computer. I had already seen the movie and knew I’d probably end up watching it multiple times any way. Not the smartest idea, considering when I looked up for a moment, I saw Blue, along with my students, staring at bare breasts.
                “Oh my God TITS! TITS on the screen! Shutitoffshutitoffshutitoff!” I have no explanation for what possessed me A. to scream TITS or B. to not have the DVD remote right within my reach. I raced over to the t.v. but the damage was already done. The kids were laughing hysterically not at the nudity but my idiotic outburst. Luckily, Old School was the first of that Will Ferrell-esque comedy so the other options included Goonies and Shrek. Despite various protests, I changed the dvd and went back to my computer, knowing full well there was no nudity in that particular version of Shrek.
By lunch time, every senior was asking to watch Old School.