| "Namtrah", the Quintessential Douchebag Hello folks, and welcome to the first (and probably last) installment of �Bad Teachers In Depth.� I am only doing this, because Gino is starting to have more literary masterpieces on his website (Check it out here). To protect anonymity, I have camouflaged the name of the teacher that I am about to debase, demean, and degrade. Luckily, it�s easy to figure out, but since I didn�t use his real name, I can�t be sued, and any similarity to an actual teacher is purely coincidental and 65% unintentional. So what makes this "Namtrah" so loathsome? Well, he�s a moron, basically. And he�s loud and unrelenting in ignorance. Based on this fact, and also his giant, sloping forehead, I am convinced that he is indeed a caveman. Example one: While the class reads One Flew Over the Cuckoo�s Nest by Ken Kesey, Namtrah is adamant that the protagonist, R.P. McMurphy, is Jesus of Nazareth. No, I didn�t say symbolizes, because this intellectual virgin seemed to think that Kesey specifically wrote about Jesus and his 12 disciples, even though there were only 11 supporting characters. Kesey was probably tripping while he wrote this piece, since he himself was the subject of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, and thus, he probably didn�t have the capacity for such an idea as to include religious imagery. Trust me, all he thought about was how thirsty he was. That�s why a great deal of the book is set in the Tub Room. Example Two: William Shakespeare�s Hamlet. While it is my opinion that all of Billy�s archaic writings be stricken from present high school curriculum, I still had this garbage handed to me. Apparently, the most important excerpt from the play is the first line, �Who�s there?� (I.i.1.). Namtrah thinks so, anyway. According to �Hamlet for Stupid Cavemen Teachers That Can�t Even Fake Intelligence� (look for it next to Cliff�s Notes), this quote �sets the tone of mystery and confusion of the play. Is Hamlet�s father dead? Is Hamlet really acting crazy? That kind of thing.� Oh, I�m sorry, that was just my stupid caveman teacher that can�t even fake intelligence�s quote. Let�s see what someone with an IQ above 50 has to say: Um, no; That quote means that someone can�t tell who�s approaching him because it�s dark outside. It is, after all, midnight. And of course Hamlet�s father is dead, his ghost visited Hamlet for chrissake. And of course Hamlet is acting crazy, He told his friend Horatio that he was going to start doing so. Wow, that was long. Just one more example of ineptitude: OK, this has nothing to do with his stupidity, just his immaturity. Before class starts, I am sitting on my desk, when two girls appear at the doorway, looking for a male classmate of mine. I say �[Classmate], your ho�s are at the door.� Simple enough. Not. Douchebag teacher hears it, and I�m slapped with a referral. If you don�t know, they�re basically meaningless, except the vice principal comes and talks to you and you get detention for a little while, yadda yadda yadda� Kind of a teacher empowerment thing that failed because of lack of intimidation. Anyway, he�s writing up the referral (it�s great, the teacher has to do more work than the offender), so I casually itch the side of my head that faces him with my middle finger. Harmless enough, except that he thought I was flipping him the bird (I was, but that�s beside the point). So he sends me to the office, another meaningless punishment, because I get to talk to the secretary who�s cool as hell, and I get out of his class. Only, the door of the office was locked, so I go back to class. I stumble in the door, and, as usual I have more of the class� attention than he, so I announce, �Door�s locked,� and proceed to my usual seat, first row, fourth back. I sit. I hear Dick--I mean Douche--I mean Douchebag bellow: �Sit in the corner.� Not fully understanding him, I move one seat back, to the back right corner. Not good enough I suppose, because next I hear: �No, turn your desk around and face the wall in the corner!� "He didn�t just say that," I think to myself. Oh, but he did. So I says to him, I says: �Oh, sorry, I thought I was in twelfth grade�� �You sure don�t act like it.� (low) �You would know, douchebag�� So I turn my desk toward the wall, as slowly and loudly as possible, and remain there for the period. And I think to myself, �That�s exactly how I would have handled it...asshole.� |