All Apologies to Dr. King

Sorry for being incommunicado. Like me, my computer didn’t want to come back to work. Y2K7, I guess. But, in honor of the holiday weekend, I thought I should share something with you.

I have a dream.

Actually, it’s a recurring dream.

And before I confess it, you should know that I love my little darlings of educational bliss to pieces.

Seriously.

And I’m not a violent person.

Really.

About once a week I have a dream that I’m beating the living snot out of this kid in my 4th period class. And he’s crying.

And I’m smiling—a really big, canary swallowing, grin as I wail on him.

Pick your jaw up off the floor, you know you’ve had your own share of “impure” thoughts. We’ve all wanted to backhand a kid into the 400 Hall once or twice but, as my imaginary shrink is fond of pointing out, all that really matters is that you can distinguish fantasy from reality.

But, I still can’t help but wonder if other professions have such violent dreams. Do dry cleaners dream about pounding on really annoying stains all night long? Do librarians dream of burning books? I’ve got a bad feeling we’re in the minority on this one.

The worst part of this dream is that this kid isn’t terrible. I mean, yeah, he yells “Penis!” real loud at random times. Sure, he has a psychologically dangerous overestimation of his own self-worth, and he’s given the kid in front of him the occasional atomic wet willy, but he’s really no more annoying than any of the rest of them.