Parents.

I was a teacher.

ONE MILLION years ago.

And while I may not remember yesterday.

I remember students, and actually, subsequently, their parents.

And the saying, the fruit doesn't fall from the tree, doesn't ring true for no reason.

Stereotypes, aren't born out of fantasy.

There is always a trace of truth.

I remember being called a "BITCH" by my RELIGION teacher, AT MY VERY PRICEY, ALL GIRLS CATHOLIC SCHOOL, and having my parents look at me, BOTH OF THEM, with said teacher, and the Head Mistress in the room and look at my face, stare into the depths of my soul and ask, WHAT THE FUCK I HAD DONE to have been called this....

My parents lived on MAC AND CHEESE to send me to said private NYC school.

But they were ready to light a torch and recreate the Salem witch trials.

AGAINST ME.

NO.

QUESTIONS.

ASKED.

Did I mention I was also the WITCH?!?

Now let me refrain, fast forward, backtrack or both...

I not only went to a private school, I also ended up teaching at a private school as well, so I have complete respect for anyone who can have the option or ability to pay for their child's tuition if they so choose.

Now, enter rant:

What I don't respect, is a parent thinking they are paying me to be their child's snack asshole, bitch soundboard, you are "killing it" cheerleader, all the while subsequently "educating.?"

GET THE FUCK OUT.

I have seen a lot.

However, what I DID NOT expect, and or realize, is what that those asshole parents, had "gifted" me.

I was the new relay runner in their race to designate their child as the best option to be the next AMAZING gift to the world's future?!?

YEP, their child.

Here's the torch!

I kept this dream alive this long, now it's your turn!

Matthew and Susan, they ARE the future.

And guess what?

We didn't want to tell you this either, but Matt and Susie have never been told, "no" or have even been faced with the hard cold fact that they are assholes.

AND MOTHERFUCKING STUPID.

"But we're good peoples!"

The new CEO, CFO, Brain Child, Go Getter....

(Who have done nothing but be raised amongst other fellow assholes, all the while patted on their backs for how big of a dick they can be. This is what we get for all those participation trophies people...)

The proof is in the pudding.

I can now say looking back, all of the parents I spoke with, who were of the "meaculpa" brand (the parents, the ones who loved to apologize and self deprecate, look at their shoes, and wonder how they can be better parents, whether they meant it or not, but ate up whatever I served them, without any excvuses.

Forty year olds made to feel like kids, as a TWENTY THREE YEAR OLD told you about your EIGHTEEN year old?!).

Yea your kids went places.

Those are the parents that had kids I didn't really need to intervene with to begin with.

The parents who were embarrassed, apologized, and felt guilty, I would always give them the time of day, EVERY DAY.

Yea, fast forward, I AM THEM.

I guess I really never needed to call Madame Cleo after all.

ANYWHO...

Yea, well those parents, those were the ones who produced the kids, I not only liked, I loved.

They had compassion.

Empathy.

An earnest eagerness to just be a good person.

WHY?

Because GOOD PEOPLE RAISED THEM.

Because their parents told them they SUCKED.

NOW.

Enter the asshole parents.

You are the ones who provided the best specimen of why I hate children.

The children, I was pretty sure, made me never want to have kids, that was, if I could even have kids.

It was because,

Get this as a teacher,

I I learned kids are assholes and that is NOT an accident, it's their parents.

You begin to see quite quickly, who you are dealing with, and, more often than not, rapidly begin to see during that parent teacher conference, you are dealing with a mini version of their maker.

And most times that means you might as well bang your head against a wall.

Assholes raise assholes.

THE MOTHERFUCKING EXCUSES.

I am going to invent, WAIT FOR IT....

69 and ME.

The premise is this, it's a DNA test, and the results will intravenously hook you up with motherfuckers you are related to, and whom you need to be around.

Build up, and if we are lucky, tear the FUCK down.

I can rename the site, "Birds of A Feather", if we need to be politically correct.

However, I, imagine it like A PURGE FOR ASSHOLES.

Or maybe, just like the old days, a Meet Up?

Go back three years to pick YOUR BRAIN UP.

Anyways,

Observations.

They are all around.

Just open your eyes.

What I will say,

Is be better,

be open,

and STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE.

AND MAY WE STOP RAISING THEM.

And criticism, is truly, for the weak.

Let's bring it back.

Be better.

Want better.

Do better.

Xoxo,

C.