Today, one of my students had a note in his hand during class. Naturally, being the dick that I am, I confiscated the object in question and proceeded to place it on the digital projector in order to humiliate him.

The note was an elaborate rap written by a boy from whom you’d never expect an ounce of vulgarity. His behavior record is exemplary. The note went on to say things about a classmate’s mother that….well, it warmed my heart. The kid had talent. I had no idea that there were so many words that rhymed with “boner.” The pwned classmate in question was 85lbs, glasses, 4 foot 8, and on the wrong side of quite possibly the greatest mom-joke humiliation in my school’s history. The writer of this rap will speak of this event when he’s 45. 22 children looked in horror and awe at the evisceration of this child’s mother on the note. I left it on the projector for about 10 seconds….but it was all the time needed for everyone to witness the destruction of another child’s will, self-esteem…..and their very soul.

“Daaaaaaaaamn, he came at your throat, that shit was WRONG!” was all i could hear as i tore the note from the projector and immediately filed it for the principal. I went on to learn that these two had been writing raps about each others’ mothers for awhile now, and were finally caught by me. They both will serve 2-hr detentions, with this story in their hearts forever. I wrote all this because it reminds me of a tender story from 1994, when I took it to another level:

Kevin Nolan, of course, was my best friend through all of grade school, and through the first couple years of high school. From 2nd through 8th grade, we were forbidden to be in the same class. Both of our 8th grade language arts journals were dedicated to defecation. I’m not joking. 177 entries, all dealing with how cool poop was. We both attended an all-boys preparatory high school, and were incessantly bored with the tedium of academia. We decided it would be funny to write fake hate letters/death threats to each other, and try to be as creative as possible. I had typing class 2nd period, and he had it 5th. I would drop these notes in his locker after my typing class and he would do the same. Note: I was watching 80’s horror movies on a regular basis at this point, and most of my notes read like John Carpenter’s The Thing. ‘Nuff said.

My notes were of legend. Classmates would approach me, praising my many uses of curse words and wishing for Kevin’s untimely death (of course, i was joking) through the most horrid of means. The coup de gras came when I was having nose bleeds one day from the cold weather. I came up with the idea of writing something absolutely dreadful in my own blood, since it was available at the time. I know what you’re thinking, I need psychological help. You have NO idea. Anyway, Kevin LOVED the note, and his face turned red from laughing so hard as I told him how the blood got there. It literally couldn’t get any worse, so the notes stopped.

guess what? KEVIN WAS AN IDIOT.

He left ALL my notes out on his desk one day, and his mom and dad found them. Yeah, my day sucked. All I remember was Kevin coming over with his parents that evening. It was a set-up. I was completely oblivious since my parents and his were also close friends, so i figured this was a social call. We all sat at the dinner table….. and just as i took a sip from my coca-cola, the blood-soaked hate notes fell on the hardwood table. My face turned white, and I almost passed out. I tried to explain that we were just kidding around, but the evidence was overwhelming that shit just WASN’T RIGHT. Kevin and I couldn’t stop laughing about it, and both sets of parents immediately considered changing their positions on abortion.

At that age, you realize that farting is hilarious, mom jokes are priceless, and inappropriateness is a gift.