Some soldiers had a dirty trick played on them Monday.

You may remember me sayin' that I started a new semester this week. Two classes in Florence and five on Ft. Hood. My regular daily History classes filled up like never before, to the extent that the administrators decided to split my 12:30 to 1:30 PM class into two classes. Thing is, they did this without tellin' me, or most of the students!

Both of those classes are set in a nice big room that's very comfortable to teach in. I was really lookin' forward to a relaxed time. The 11:30 class went like clock work Monday, and then I see this little weasel of a teacher peekin' into the room through the window in the door. His name is Mr. Jeffrey. More about him later.

After the 11:30 class let out I went out into the foyer where people can drink and eat snacks and found this guy out there. He usually doesn't teach classes in this building during the day, so I was puzzled about why he was there. he proceeds to tell me that he'd got an 12:30 class in my room, at the same time as my next class. I'm like, "No the fuck you you don't". I guess I got a little territorial. You gotta hold on to a nice room when you get one. Trust me.

It turns out that the enrollment for that 12:30 class blew up like crazy the week before, going up over 50 students, so the administrators decided to split it into two classes, giving me one and Mr. Jeffrey the other. It's all cool with me. I don't care one way or the other, so long as I still have a class. I get payed according to how many classes I have, so the more the merrier.

Thing is, nobody bothered to tell me anything about it! They made these decisions the middle of last week. Some of the students were actually called by the registrar to tell them they'd been switched to a different class, but they failed to tell the friggin' teacher! What's more, that rat bastard got my cool room, and more students (his paycheck will be larger)! I WAS PISSED!

They sent me upstairs to another, smaller room. It's still nice, but a step down from the other one. Then I found out that the bosses decided that the easiest way to split the class up was to give all the soldiers to Mr. Jeffrey and all the civilians to me. That means he's got a class with about 40 folks, many of whom just got back from the desert, all of whom thought they were gonna be in my class, and now they have to contend with Mr. Jeffrey. Those poor fuckers.

Now let me tell you about Mr. Jeffrey. He's a huge dick! He's a lawyer (I know, enough said). Anyway, he says he's a lawyer. I've never seen anything to support it. He's retired soldier, Vietnam vet, Ex army colonel, who has a ridiculous breadth of knowledge when it comes to just about any kind of history. Now, none of that is not a bad thing. What sucks if you're one of these poor bastards in his class is that he's one of those teachers who thinks if he scares the hell out of his students and loads them up with papers, getting half of them to drop the class or fail, that he's doing a great job teaching. He's the kind of guy the rest of us have to live down.

I swear, I don't know how he keeps his job. It confirms to me the notion that the administrators really don't give a fuck how the students are being treated so long as they pay the tuition and the classes make. Hell, most of them think that if you fail a bunch of students it means you have high standards and you're a better teacher! He comes in and tells the students right off the top that half of them will fail, and then tells them that their first paper is due the next week. Just a huge sweaty diseased prick. There's no two ways about it.

This all happened Monday afternoon, and I've already had a half dozen students call me or talk to me about dropping his class and getting back into mine. I hope to God, for their sake, the powers that be let them do it. I'd LOVE it if half his students dropped and came back to me. They won't let that happen though. It's a shame.

Another thing, on a totally different note. I started a Government class Monday night at 7:30PM. It went well. I handed out the syllabus and went over it, took roll, gave them a little speech about what I expected of them, and then I let them go. It's the usual routine on the first night. Give them a chance to go and get the book and start reading it, and give me a chance to jet home early. A winner for both sides.

So, when the class lets out I see a soldier hanging back. He's older than most of them. Maybe in his 30s. Probably been in the army for 15 or 20 years. I see these folks all the time. Its' one of the best things about teaching on base. This is the shit I live for, and why I love my job here on the base. I don't ever want to teach anywhere else. Because we're on base, we get fewer of the "I really don't give a fuck" kids right out of high school, like me at that age, just going to school to please their parents, and more of these people who have lived a little and know a few things. It's fun as hell to teach them. Hell, they lived through some of the stuff we talk about.

Anyway, this guy hangs back and comes to my desk after everyone else has left the room. He can't look me in the face. I can see from his expression that he's almost breaking down, scared to death. He tells me that he never did well in school as a kid, was always in remedial classes, and has a learning disability. His wife has bought him a set of tapes about government that he can listen to in his car, and he's gonna try to keep up and give it a try. I tell him to relax. Hell, I was in a lot of those remedial classes too, and look at me now! I tell him he's done a LOT of growing up since then, and that he's gonna surprise himself. I tell him to relax, and that I'll take care of him. Between me and his wife, we'll take care of him.

I see this a lot. People who haven't been in school in 20 years, who make a B or A on their first exam and float out of the room on a cloud. I love it! I can't wait to see this guy kick that tests ass. It'll change his life.

Now, the high school drama. Oh hell, you've read enough for one post. I'll save that shit for later. Believe me, it's good smelly shit. There may well be a parent teacher conference in the near future where I get to tell a few mothers who are bitchin' about their kids grades last semester to kiss my fat hairy ass. It should be FUN! Later. Cheers.