One thing I miss about college

is taking mucho classes with people who are English majors, but not Secondary Ed minors; because they're cooler. They're less practical, more deliberately quirky, more hilarious in general.

And then they go and turn into teachers anyway, apparently.

I wrote one of my favorite English-not-teachers eons ago with a funny story about one of my students hating me (It's funny if you know him?). I was expecting to hear back some totally outlandish and yet simultaneously beautiful tale about life on the I'm-an-English-major edge. But he's in the classroom. Teaching kids. Sell-out.

At least he hasn't lost his knack for witty banter:

I'm glad to hear things are at least interesting for you if not easy. If you're anything like me (pray to God this is not the case) then some days are capped with the dizzying highs of kids actually getting it, and the abysmal lows of them not giving (if I may paraphrase you) a rat's fat ass about anything not related to sleep or their totally rad IPod touches.

All in all, it's okay, it's nice to feel like you're definitively helping someone everyday, but it's less nice to have to wade through halls of hormonal teens groping on each other in the hallways.

Remember that the one good thing about kids trashing you now is that they don't know shit. Not in the way that many teachers wrap themselves in the artificial smugness of thinking they know more than their kids, but seriously kids today are perhaps the least literate children in 100 years, so if n e 1 tellz u u don no sometin, tell em, to get a command of the fucking language before they decide to aim it critically at someone else.

The world needs more English-not-teachers. Exhibits A, B, and C: