Thursday, February 15, 2007

Get the heck out of Dodge-ball.

Obviously, I'm going to be talking about dodgeball today, so let me just start off with a horrible pun. I "dodged" a bullet this week.

I know that I ragged on the anime club that one time when I covered for the sponsor, but they were a sweet bunch of kids. In fact, I got to thinking that I wouldn't mind sponsoring something myself. It would be quite fulfilling to get a more personal time with some students and provide them with some insights as they prepare for adulthood. I think I was feeling what many women feel after holding a baby. They want one themselves.

Needless to say, I saw it as a sign when a student came to me, who was interested in starting a club and needed a projected sponsor to get the ball rolling. Great, this kid needs a teacher; I've got an itch to sponsor, what more needs to be said?

On top of that this kid wanted to start a dodgeball club. Let me tell you, I was ecstatic. That's virtually a sports club and that would lend me some "Man" credit. Let's face it, "Why aren't you married?" is a Gay-dar question for any single, male, English teacher. Not that there's anything wrong with that; it's just tiring to field that question again and again.

Anyway, I was so excited at the prospect that I told the first teacher I saw, one of the Luddites, Mr. Sage. His response was in classic Luddite form. As I spilled upon him my plans to sponsor the club with enthusiasm, he just packed his pipe with tobacco. I rambled on and on with my idealistic visions that included special t-shirts and a fundraiser which included a complex 24 hour marathon dodgeball match, and he just lit his pipe and puffed some smoke. Once I had finished, Sage looked at me and said, "You know, just because they throw things at you doesn't mean you’re a sponsor." With that he just gave a fatherly grin, patted me on the back and strolled off.

That's when it occurred to me that I may have not thought this dodgeball thing all the way through. My biggest oversight was that I didn't consider the student who asked me to be the sponsor, Jack Wilcox. This is a kid, who on the first day of school, while I was taking role, responded with the following:

"The 'Wil' is silent."

That classiness has carried on throughout the year with the adorning of t-shirts that read "I Love Freshmen Girls" and "Your Pants Are Too Tight*You May Want To Take Them Off." He even goes on and on about his cousin who was the blowjob bathroom guy. And now that I think about it, that's just the tip of the iceberg. I felt so silly for being so blinded by this urge to be some ideal club sponsor that I would consider the offer of a kid who draws marijuana leaves on his desk.

Fast forward to yesterday. With Mr. Wilcox finding another sucker to take over the role of sponsor in place, the first official meeting of the dodgeball society took place. The result—a janitor with broken glasses to accompany his damaged olfactory bulb. Any guesses to who launched the shot worth thousands of dollars?

Therefore, I thank you, Mr. Sage. Thank you for knocking some sense into me, before Mr. Wilcox knocked a sense out.

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