Spring Fake

While it’s taken several months to get used to the rhythm of life on campus, I’m starting to get my c-legs. At the outset, my wrist muscles were embarrassingly out of shape for midnight frisbee tosses. A commitment to hacky sack has helped get my limbs back in working order. As you may recall, I took a lucrative job teaching at Chair-Latin College – doing so solely for financial reasons. The winter still lingers on in Chug Harbor, the strange ghost town enveloping the school. The inevitability of spring has brought additional good news for the student body. The college, deep in debt from propping up questionable foreign regimes, sold its naming rights for a princely sum. Chair-Latin College will henceforth be known as Turbo Tax University. Which isn’t bad timing, seeing as April 15^th is less than a month away.

With spring break coming, now’s as good a time as any to take one’s temperature. Perhaps some of the upper class will sneak off for beachside bacchanals – but I doubt it. If there’s a common ethic that bonds our students, it’s their shared terror of everything and everyone. It’s printed right on the school seal – Timor Docet, Latin for “fear teaches.” And it’s why my Asteroid Preparedness class shattered all attendance records. They knew that by missing it – as the dinosaurs had – they were leaving themselves far too vulnerable for simple picnics and strolls in the park. Plus, I gave out these wonderful individually numbered hard hats on the first day. Those were a big hit. 

The only trouble that arose during the winter semester was being called to the disciplinary committee. Trust me when I say it was all a huge misunderstanding. 

In my classes, I didn’t bother learning any of their names. My reasoning was that what if there were two Mikes, three Steves, four Dianes? What then? I couldn’t have that. So I did the only rational thing – I referred to each student by their “character name.” Mike 1 became “Moron.” Steve 2 became “Simpleton.” Diane 3 became “Dimwit.” I did my best to retain their first initial to make it easier on their classmates. Obviously, that wasn’t always possible. Someone like Horatio, a natural born coward, was not going to get the benefit of an “H.” Some people didn’t appreciate being singled out and reduced in this way. I ended up doing the same thing for the members of the committee, led by a goon, a coot and a literal pinhead. They had no rebuttal for my pointed remarks and dropped the inquiry posthaste. All I got was a slap on the wrist, which unfortunately took me out of frisbee competition for three to four weeks. 

Overall, it’s been a great experience. I might even take up the University President’s offer and bring a small coterie of students to Grand Cayman for a little sheltering during tax season. I’m sure we’ll get along famously. The students have taught me nothing. But that’s not their job, is it? Their job is to wash my car, pick up my laundry and generously tip my doorman when I forget to. They aren’t here to learn. I treat each class as an executive assistant incubator. Surely one of them will heed the call. If not, they will see it reflected in the grades.