Space Invasion of the Teaching Kind

There was nowhere left to hide

Photo by Usman Yousaf on Unsplash

I had the misfortune of going to a party. I’m not big on parties even before a pandemic rendered all social contact void. I hated them all. I hated having to make conversation in a grown-up adult kind of way. I hated having to be mature. I hated being told I had to act my age.

I still found fart jokes hilarious. Any mention of Uranus would crack me up.

Back at the party, we all stood around politely. It wasn’t any old party either. It was a fucking teacher’s party. For the record, I don’t dislike teachers. I think they do an awesome job in the brutal face of paperwork and angry parents. I admire teachers for the will to live despite the absurdity of teaching in the modern environment. Even more so with zoom classes while they juggled their own children in a lockdown. Teacher’s parties? Not so much.

I used to picture the scene of a teacher’s common room being the height of sophistication. All intellectual stimulus and riveting debate. The truth? It’s a hideaway from children where the teachers can bitch and moan while stuffing their faces on morning tea shouts gargling their tenth coffee of the day.

A teacher’s party is a common room times a hundred with added partners forced to listen to their perpetual whining.