I truly believe that all of society’s ills, including our flailing economy and crumbling education system, can be traced to one source: reality television. It is not only rotting our brains and making us dumber by the day, but it also sends the message that one can achieve success without hard work or talent. Neither Steve Jobs nor The Situation graduated from college, but the former pulled himself up by his bootstraps while the latter just did a lot of pull-ups. This whole notion of rewarding people based on whose life is a bigger train wreck runs counter to everything America stands for. Occupy Wall Street shouldn’t be protesting capitalism, it should be protesting Kardashianism.
Remember that time when we decided to flash the boys during their poker night? We were pissed that we never got the invite, so the three of us herded into your mom’s purple station wagon to go find them. If only we’d known how pathetic and desperate that was— literally LOOKING for these boys that obviously didn’t invite us.
And we drove around and round, listening to the Backstreet Boys and talking about our middle school days and who has fucked up their life since. We thought we were cool because we had bank accounts and driver’s licenses.
Eventually, we figured out whose house they were at, and called them outside because we had a surprise for them. As we drove up the hill in that ridiculous labyrinth of a neighborhood, we saw all eight of them, lined up in a row on the front lawn. How perfectly stupid they looked standing there as our shaggin wagon cruised up. And our friend with the biggest boobies flashed all of them, and they stood and stared with their mouths open.
Remember how we went to IHOP afterwards, and had pigs in blankets and took pictures that we couldn’t wait to put on facebook so that we could show all our future college friends just how cool we are? And we had diet Cokes because we thought we were fat, but if we really thought that, we wouldn’t be at an IHOP in the first place. And then we drove around some more, until finally we went back to your house. We stayed up and gossiped about boys and the future and the past and all of our inside jokes that we’ve collected throughout the years.
Scene: School book fair. Random posters of koala bears and random cars (that the kids know nothing about) and Justin Bieber all over the place. My fifth grade girls start yapping about Bieber and Jonas Brothers and whoever the hell else is cool now.
I don’t recognize a single name their talking about, so I throw my hands up and say, “What the heck ever happened to the Backstreet Boys!?”
I received a bunch of disgusted twisted looks from the cluster of girls, and, oh no, please don’t say it, please don’t say it:
Things that have happened during student teaching this week...
- A kid has barfed right in front of me.
- A kid has gotten up in front of his class and declared that he was half-Nazi (in his defense, he had NO idea what a Nazi was).
- A kid fell in the school’s makeshift pond.
- Because my last name is impossible for a bunch of ten-year-olds to say, I go by my last initial. My teacher flubbed and called a guy intern by the same last initial. Queue 22 kids asking me if I was married to the guy intern.