Musings of a Millenial MEd: Why I am a Loser Teacher

In exactly one global orbit around the sun, I will be student teaching. I will have long completed my Bachelor’s Degree from DePaul in English and history and gender studies, and I will be at the tail end of my Master’s Degree in Education (MEd) that concentrates upon secondary education English.

Like a “hashtag real adult”, I will get up, get dressed, and make coffee. I will paint my eyelashes “carbon black” according to the Neutrogena mascara tube, button my shirt, yank on my stockings, zip up my skirt, and then what?

Very recently, Drumph’s eldest hatchling, Donny Junior, proclaimed to all, “Keep up that fight. Bring it to your schools. You don’t have to be indoctrinated by these loser teachers that are trying to sell you on socialism from birth.”

Now, although my ethnic origin story technically stems from a nation that used to be under a communist dictatorship (Ukraine), so did Donny's mother, and his father’s most recent wifey (see the history of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia). I am not a communist. Nor am I a textbook socialist. I’m also not entirely sure Donny Junior knows what he’s talking about, but that’s a rant for another day.

All I do know is that when I do evidently become a loser teacher…  

Maybe I’ll wear lipstick to look older because I can and do pass as seventeen. I’ll show my class photographic proof that puberty did hit me (with a broom - hard), and maybe they’ll giggle because I looked like a thumb. I hope to show them that confidence-building takes time and that we mustn't ever fret over something as temporary as looks.

Maybe I’ll grab a bag of mandarin oranges because the C in Chicago does not stand for “vitamin C” - it’s more along the lines of “Cannot-Feel-My-Face”. Therefore, a cutie for my CPS cuties. Hopefully, someone tells Donny Junior that citrus is not a communist building block even though both words start with the letter “C”.

Maybe I will leave my classroom door open for lunch, in case the cafeteria doesn’t look too inviting that day. Classmates can be mean, but safe spaces were invented for a reason. Plus, Donny Junior hates them with a passion, along with any mention of diversity, women, and the LGBT community.

Maybe I’ll decorate my high school classroom with the skateboard my high school best friend painted for me a few years ago. He recreated the poster I made for a memorial scholarship campaign in honor of my favorite teacher, who valued community service, social justice, and random acts of kindness.

Maybe I will have a poster of Alexandria Ocasio Cortez, the youngest Congresswoman the United States has ever seen, on my wall because my hometown neighborhood has a decent population of Hispanic Americans, and so does the rest of Chicago, and my girls need a strong, modern woman to look up to. Plus, her lipstick choice is fabulous.

Who knows what kind of trouble I can stir when I become a loser teacher!