Give me some peanuts and jack-cracks.

Years ago I saw this piece on one of those news magazine television shows (Prime Time Minutes, Sixty Live, something like that). It was about how little leagues across the country had mutated. They once were these institutions that provided exercise and taught teamwork and whatnot, but now they had taken on a new tone. Now we have parents behind closed doors deciding which players would go to which teams, accusations of under the table dealings (by those that made under the table dealings), attempts to bring in ringers, and other clawing and scratching to get to the top.

Man, I'm jealous. Why couldn't we teachers do that? We would pick "players" until the scrawniest, weakest, most uncoordinated kids were left. Only now all the teachers from your department are picking the students for their classes in the next academic year.

Imagine, we could even hold it in the gym and line the students up against the wall like cattle. The teachers would then wheel and deal like crazy.

"No way, I took the kid modified six ways to Sunday last year."

"Ms. Beasley, if you'll let me trade up in the first round, I'll throw in a packet of scantrons."

"You take these three students here on parole for the NHS president and we have a deal."

"I call the 'you can't fail a kid two years in a row' rule."

The best and the brightest would be chosen first and when the last doorstops, paperweights, and jackholes were chosen, they'd have their spirits really broken and slink off as the final names were called.

That'll learn 'em to apply themselves next year.