Twelve years of telling mostly mediocre kids

they were destined for more

made me a liar, like a politician,

since Mediocrity 101 should be a

required freshman class.

I figured if I Scott Walkered them

into believing me,

they’d somehow overcome destinies

of becoming moronic little versions

of their fat-cat wannabe parents

who’d vote for a new football stadium

and then against me

as an English teacher,

assuming somehow that football skills

would help their kids more

than reading or writing

science or social studies

math or electives.

But those parents respected business class,

as if it was somehow more than

math and English,

as if their kids would ever run more than

the family service station,

as if high school business class helps with

that career re-failing. Then again,

ignorance is a blissfully

watered-down high school education,

filled with study halls to hide laid off teachers,

but more importantly,

a shot at a state title and proud

futures as Al Bundy and Uncle Rico.