Yesterday, in deference to part-time AFT President Randi Weingarten, I wore blue to school. I wore a blue suit, a blue shirt, and a blue tie. I considered wearing blue underwear, but it was dark when I got dressed, so I can't say for certain. As you know, this was to express support for the stimulus package, and waddya know, it passed.
Whew! That was a close one! Can you imagine what would've happened if I'd forgotten, and just threw on whatever clothes I had lying around on the floor?
I felt empowered. I felt alive. But then something funny happened. The administrator who complained I wasn't circulating enough while proctoring a science exam walked by, and as I looked into her eyes, she was struck by lightning right there on the second floor hallway. All that was left of her was a smoking pile of ash next to the opaque projector she spent her entire career wheeling around.
Then I encountered the custodian who filled my desk with garbage, sauntering down the hall like he owned the place (he probably does). I gave him a look, and he gave me one back. We slowly approached on another, like high noon at the OK Corral. Now I'm the sort of guy who'd run a mile to avoid a fight, but fortunately for me the custodian turned and walked right out the front door. I watched him walk to the street, where he was eaten by a pack of ravenous wild dogs.
Thank you, Ms. Weingarten, for your excellent suggestion. I'm convinced it's changed not only my life, but the entire course of history.
Extra credit: Identify the guitar genius in the photo!
Views expressed herein are solely those of the author or authors, and do not reflect views of my employers, the United Federation of Teachers, the MORE Caucus or any other union caucus.
Stories herein containing unnamed or invented characters are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.