*Disclaimer: this post contains offensive language*
For those of you who don’t know, I am an English teacher who worked in the Pennsylvania Public School System before opting to stay home and properly instill an appropriate dose of dysfunction in my kids. I loved most everything about teaching, save some specific school board members who ruined my beloved high school in one fell swoop. But that’s a story for another day. Today, my loyal readers, we are talking about the c-word.
Listen, I’m as vulgar as they come on a bad day. Even on a good day, I have been known to experiment with all of the wonderful ways a gal can use the F-word. I don’t blush at much, but that word, the C-word, is one that makes me wince in mixed company. Yet, I said it loud and proud into a microphone at a school-wide assembly. Go figure.
Allow me to regale you with my tale:
Our principals had organized an assembly to recognize our best students. The term best was an umbrella over the entire school that encompassed student athletes, those with special needs, those who maintained high honors, and more. The whole premise was enough to bring me to happy tears, and it made me so proud to be a teacher in that school to those students. Various stakeholders had been invited to participate in our special day, one that was intended to acknowledge those who earned a moment in the spotlight.
Until I ripped it away from them with my potty mouth.
There I was in my fancy suit, among colleagues who were also some of my favorite people in the whole world, prepared to introduce a group of students whose work ethic was to be commended. I cleared my throat, walked up to the microphone, and began.
“We are here today to recognize the cuntless…………………..countless ways in which our students…”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
I could have announced the cure for cancer at that moment, but no one heard a dang thing I said after I dropped the C-bomb. I distinctly remember time stopping, a trickle of sweat rolling down my back, and the collective gasp from the students who were seated behind me. One of them whispered, “Did she just say that?”
She sure did.
I looked into the crowd for support, or a bag to throw over my head, only to find my colleagues covering their mouths in shock. And then the smiles, the giggles. One of my favorite dudes actually left the auditorium because he couldn’t hold it together. I imagine it was then that he fired off the following email:
“We’re doing Happy Hour and dinner after work. We’re thinking about getting some cuntry fried steak. You in?”
I don’t remember much else about the assembly, but I will never forget the looks of agony/embarrassment/amusement from the students and faculty as I completed the walk of shame back to my classroom. I think some of them actually felt bad for me because SERIOUSLY, who says that?! Though most just appreciated the fact that I had humiliated myself. If memory serves me, my principals sought me out later in the day just to see if I needed any support from a guidance cunteslor…
Fortunately, we were a small district, one with a good sense of humor, and I retained my job despite my snafu. My pride? That’s long gone.