Congratulations Terrible Teacher!

“For your first day of class, you'll have to pee on someone.”

Your voice will remain flat as you speak, your eyes cold. Your hand will rest steadily on your desk.

“Anyone who doesn’t pee on someone will be marked absent.”

Your students will look at one another, fear glimmering in their eyes. They won’t want to pee or be peed on, but they also won’t want to be marked absent. Some of them, the students who are repeating your sophomore English class, will begin tensing their hands, readying themselves to spring up and pee on someone, to avoid a repeat of last year.

“BEGIN!” you’ll shout. The older students will be the first to act, leaping on their desks and spraying urine about them in a wide arc. The younger students will cower in fear, trying to slip under their desks to avoid the yellow droplets that will rain down upon them.

Moans will rise, and with them your laughter will emerge: a stony terrible thing that will cut the air and draw silence in like a vacuum until the sounds of urine flying and students crying fade to be replaced on by your voice, your cruel laugh pressing wincing students to examine their shame, their self hatred, and the knowledge that this, their second (or for some third) year of high school will be the toughest yet.

Congratulations Terrible Teacher!