Thanks, teachers and coaches

Posted on June 28th, 2011

It’s been busy here in the Manic house. Mainly I am busy, while Junior sleeps in, hangs with friends and tries to avoid chores. Ah, the joys of summer. Anyway, between acting as a shuttle service for the dogs, teenagers and shockingly, myself, I managed to write…nothing. But I have this post, which I like and which I wrote for Yahoo Shine. So I’m printing it out here to say thank you to all the people who help my son become a bit more educated everyday. I sincerely thank you. Because of those teachers, coaches and everyone else, Junior will most likely go to college and I will someday be able to sleep in, hang with friends and avoid chores. Not to mention I will finally be able to indulge my true passion: watching reality TV shows until I just can’t stomach them anymore.

Dear Teachers,

Thank you for taking the time to teach my son this year. I know it was difficult—because I live with him and I am quickly discovering that puberty is way worse than any other time in a child’s life. That includes the Terrible Two’s where tantrums reigned—and not just my tantrums, either.

Thank you, history teacher, for teaching my son about Kennedy and Fidel Castro. Until that very moment he actually thought they were characters from Call of Duty: Black Ops and was amazed to discover they were ACTUAL HISTORICAL FIGURES. Thanks to you, I can almost sleep at night without having a recurring nightmare about the future of our nation.

Thank you, biology teacher, for being brave enough to arm 30 kids with Bunsen Burners and flammable objects during lab time. I have not met a more courageous teacher, although I suspect I will next year when Junior takes Chemistry and actual chemicals are added to the mix.

Thank you, English teacher, for reading Romeo and Juliet with a bunch of giggly freshmen students who think it’s weird that Romeo and Juliet had to get married in order to have sex.  Also, thank you for not losing patience with my son when he asked if there were more fight scenes because the love part was boring.

Thank you, Algebra teacher, for finally getting my son to understand whatever it is that you do in that class.  Yeah. Obviously, math isn’t my strong point, so thank you for being such an excellent teacher that Junior never had to come to me for homework help.

Thank you art teacher for teaching my son about Picasso and Van Gogh and even some artists who are still alive. He loved your class and not just because you never assigned homework. In truth, that’s why I loved your class.

Thank you PE teacher, for teaching my son to dance. He does suck at it—which honestly is only to be expected because a) he hasn’t grown into his giant feet yet; and b) well, if you’d ever seen his father or I dance, you’d know why Junior’s lack of talent isn’t a big surprise.

Thank you to the football coach who survived a busload of farting boys who routinely got onto the field and forgot how to play due to the mesmerizing effects of the freshman cheerleading squad.  And thank you to the tennis coach who not only taught the fundamentals of hitting the dang ball, but also imparted life lessons like “sometimes you are number one doubles, sometimes you are number 4 singles. It’s up to you.” Indeed it is.

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