Why, you may ask, was I wandering the halls of the local Catholic school today? I am not a sexual deviant on the prowl. And I'm certainly not a man of the seminary. Nor am I one of the scumbags who tries to play both parts.
No, today, I was on official business. Which doesn't mean I was wearing a Santa suit, either. I'm neither fat nor jolly enough to be anything more than a sickly Mr. Claus, so I spread Holiday cheer in the next best way. I got to read Christmas books to second graders in my fiancee's classroom. And it was a blast. Kids are great. They ask what your favorite scary movie is (Beetlejuice), why you're eyes are brown (because I'm completely full of shit), and how many babies you're planning on having with their teacher (enough to make sure I'll have a compatible liver donor when I'm in my forties). It was great fun. I figure, being able to come up with a politically-correct and age-appropriate answer for about one in three questions was pretty good of me.
And I learned this about kids: if you can't come up with a good answer, all you have to do is kick your vocabulary in the ass a little bit, and either confusion will make them forget the question, or awe will lift you upon the shoulders of Einstein. Kids are easy. Obviously, I'm no teacher. But, that's fine by me. After spending half a day in a classroom, I don't understand why you don't see any homicidal educators in the news. Without going into details, I've come to the conclusion that teachers rock. I believe that the good ones are the world's first line of defense against Dumbfuckery, which is the untreatable, terminal, adult-stage result of dumbfuck parenting.
I'm happy to report that Second grade is still every bit as cool as I remember it, except for the fact that I have to kneel to reach the urinals now. Lunch and recess are as regular as Metamucil, the art teacher's room still smells like patchouli, and Gym is still just an adult word for: "Alright you little shits, go run around and scream off some energy, why don't you." Best of all... lunch still comes in a compartmentalized present of mass-produced goodness (See cellophane below).
All in all, a good day.
Music: Stormy Weather by The Kooks
Beer: Bells - Two-Hearted Ale