I went to a "writer's workshop" two summers in a row when I was a teacher.
They called this "staff development." This two weeks sitting around with other teacher types acting like we were "real" writers. Going through activities that we would, in theory, work into our classrooms.
Two weeks of my life. In exchange for the $900 stipend. It was worth it to me.
So, on day one of that second year...and remember, I'm HABITUALLY early...I plop down in my "group" room at a table by myself. I leave it to others to extend the hand of friendship by sitting with me. At my table.
Me sitting at a table filled with Elementary Teachers is more than my single-guy stomach can bear.
And at my round table of four, in walks three teachers all from the same Elementary school and they plop down with me.
Two were teachers. Insert an image of every graying teacher you ever had. And with them, they had young, nubile Ms. First Year teacher.
(here is the picture of the two other teachers...every teacher you ever had that was not attractive)
Who sat next to me. And she smelled swell.
(so not her...but this is equivalent)
And she as attractive. In that nondescript Elementary School teacher way. She'd make a good mom. She was a Laura, fo sho!
And I thought she took a liking to me. Because I know I was digging her flirtations and her fresh, summery smell.
(Flirty Girl)
Our first activity was to interview someone at our table and focus on our writing "voice." I went for a monotonous, robotic "by the facts" approach that got all the laughs.
That's me. Class Clown.
She got called on to read hers. And she'd interviewed me. And it was as boring as the day is long.
Until she got to the line, "He has long, lovely eye lashes. Eye lashes a girl would kill for."
And the room of mostly women let out a collective, motherly "AWWWWWW!"
And my right testicle fully rolled out of my shorts.
While my lashes may, or may not, be womanly. No dude wants to be called out on his long, luscious lashes.
Needless to say, there was no romantic destiny for Ms. First Year Teacher and myself. In fact, I grew a resentment for her that caused me to buzz all the hair off my head that week. I only offered the explanation that I was "in training."
So...ladies...for the record...no guy...and I'll carry the burden for speaking for ALL PENIS POSSESSORS...no guy wants to have any part of his being equated with being something that a girl would want for own body or life.
Luckily I found my manhood later that summer by working in a rock quarry breaking rocks, drinking only Budweiser and eating nothing but beef jerky and other beef products.
They called this "staff development." This two weeks sitting around with other teacher types acting like we were "real" writers. Going through activities that we would, in theory, work into our classrooms.
Two weeks of my life. In exchange for the $900 stipend. It was worth it to me.
So, on day one of that second year...and remember, I'm HABITUALLY early...I plop down in my "group" room at a table by myself. I leave it to others to extend the hand of friendship by sitting with me. At my table.
Me sitting at a table filled with Elementary Teachers is more than my single-guy stomach can bear.
And at my round table of four, in walks three teachers all from the same Elementary school and they plop down with me.
Two were teachers. Insert an image of every graying teacher you ever had. And with them, they had young, nubile Ms. First Year teacher.
(here is the picture of the two other teachers...every teacher you ever had that was not attractive)
Who sat next to me. And she smelled swell.
(so not her...but this is equivalent)
And she as attractive. In that nondescript Elementary School teacher way. She'd make a good mom. She was a Laura, fo sho!
And I thought she took a liking to me. Because I know I was digging her flirtations and her fresh, summery smell.
(Flirty Girl)
Our first activity was to interview someone at our table and focus on our writing "voice." I went for a monotonous, robotic "by the facts" approach that got all the laughs.
That's me. Class Clown.
She got called on to read hers. And she'd interviewed me. And it was as boring as the day is long.
Until she got to the line, "He has long, lovely eye lashes. Eye lashes a girl would kill for."
And the room of mostly women let out a collective, motherly "AWWWWWW!"
And my right testicle fully rolled out of my shorts.
While my lashes may, or may not, be womanly. No dude wants to be called out on his long, luscious lashes.
Needless to say, there was no romantic destiny for Ms. First Year Teacher and myself. In fact, I grew a resentment for her that caused me to buzz all the hair off my head that week. I only offered the explanation that I was "in training."
So...ladies...for the record...no guy...and I'll carry the burden for speaking for ALL PENIS POSSESSORS...no guy wants to have any part of his being equated with being something that a girl would want for own body or life.
Luckily I found my manhood later that summer by working in a rock quarry breaking rocks, drinking only Budweiser and eating nothing but beef jerky and other beef products.
ummmm....i like your eyelashes
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