Today is May 29th. It’s a special day for me as I reflect back on the past year of my life. You see, one year ago today was the effective date of my resignation from the school I had worked at for more than 7 years. It was neccesary for me to leave, but it was painful. Like getting your teeth pulled: You know you need to do it, but it sucks anyway.
For days, my emotions had been raw. Thinking about all those kids I taught who I would now never get to see grow older and leave elementary school. Birthdays and Christmases that I would miss. I was leaving this place that I’d worked so hard for and all those children I’d loved so much.
It’s one year later and I’m taking stock of how I feel about that decision now. Instead of influencing young minds and spending my days imparting knowledge unto the next generation, I spend my work days ringing up customers and making sure their vibrators work. For nearly a year now, I’ve worked in an “Adult Store” selling sex toys, lube, porn, male enhancement pills,
bongs “water pipes,” and various other fun things. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that I am now holding down an inferior job to the one I left. First of all, it’s fucking retail, ugh. Second, “dude, you sell fucking dildos for a living, what the fuck….”
So, after a year, let’s ask: Do you miss it, Galen?
Well, that depends on what you mean. Do I miss those children? The children that I taught once a week from age 5 to 11, all throughout their elementary school career? Yes, I do. I miss them terribly. There is not one single day that goes by that I don’t think about them and wonder how they’re doing. Not a single goddamn day that I don’t miss them so much that it burns in my chest. Unlike some teachers, I genuinely and deeply loved my students.
The trouble is, see, teaching has very little to do with the actual students. If loving your classroom full of kids with all of your heart was all it took, I’d still be there. But that’s absolutely not what teaching is about. Being a teacher is not about the children, period. I went into that line of work because I love kids and wanted to contribute to their lives in a positive way. For many kids, I did do that, in spite of a system that’s completely rigged against it happening, but for so many more, I didn’t. The priorities in teaching are backwards. They go something like this:
Remember in Robocop 2 when they turned Murphy into a babbling fucktard by filling his head with all those nonsense directives, most of which had nothing to do with his goddamn job? Yeah, that’s what being a teacher is like.
Here I sit working a stereotypically horrible job (retail) and yet I’m always happy to go to work. I don’t dread getting up every day. I didn’t mind the time they called and asked me to come in on my day off because somebody had no-showed. I fucking volunteered to work a double shift (16 hours) just because they needed somebody. I’m treated with respect and appreciated for the hard work I do. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt that way. In fact, the last time I felt that way on a job was when I worked as a camp counselor during the summers of 1999, 2000, and 2002. It was that job where I discovered that I loved working with children and it was there that I decided that that’s what I’d like to do with my life. I guess maybe I love working with kids in a fun not shit environment, eh?
I sell fake dicks in a retail establishment. And an establishment that has far more strict rules than most. Everyone has to show I.D., bags and purses have to be left at the door or put back in your car, you can’t open the fucking boxes, you can’t say certain words (“bong,” “whip-its,” etc.), and the list goes on. Lots of things that can piss customers off when I enforce them. It seems to me that my retail experience should be even shittier than the average Wal-Mart worker. And yet, it’s not. Is it possible that retail isn’t as bad as people say? Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that I spent over a decade in such a horrible fucking job makes this one seem great by comparison. I’d like to think that I just enjoy my job, but I have to question that. Maybe I only enjoy it because I’m not being talked down to and treated like fucking dog shit every hour that I’m there.
Consider carefully what I’m saying here: I sell fake dicks and it’s a better fucking job than teaching. Not by a small margin, but by a very large one. Is it any wonder that the education system fails so many? How can we expect it to work when the people most responsible for its functioning are so horribly downtrodden? If you stood there screaming at Gordon Ramsay and belittling him every minute of the day for years on end, he’s going to fuck up your steak, no matter how good he is. You can’t treat people that way and expect the best from them.
And now, in honor of my current (and far superior) job, I leave you with Alexis Texas’ ass. Stay thirsty, my friends.