Teacher Loses It
FAKE EDUCATION NEWS
Today started out as a perfectly normal workday for Davis Daniels, a 37-year-old third-grade teacher at Haywood Elementary School in Nashville, Tennessee. And it stayed pretty much just that way. Normal. But today, inexplicably, “perfectly normal” was just too fucking much for Mr. Daniels.
Restrained in a straight jacket at the Vanderbilt Psychiatric Facility, Mr. Daniels takes a long drag from a cigarette held by his nine-year old son, Donald. “I can’t explain it”, confessed Daniels, a 14-year veteran of Metropolitan Nashville Public Schools and in his sixth year at Haywood ES. “I’ve been through all this shit before, and more. From all I remember, today in class was the same as any other day. But I feel like I’m 100 years old. I don’t even know what happened….Bring that back up here, son…thanks….”
According to sources, Mr. Daniels is said to have “gone seriously fucking bat-shit” in his third grade class today just before lunch. Many children were too traumatized to speak with reporters. But those who did speak to Teachbad Education News (TEN), with the consent of their parents, recounted similar stories. What follows is a conglomerate account.
The day began normally with circle time and morning announcements. Noah eats boogers. Jayla wets her pants. Same ol’ same ol’. But Mr. Daniels seems to have had less patience than normal with children farting, leaning sideways into one another, and complaints that “this is boring.”
Circle time was followed by the Morning Reading Block. As high stakes state tests approach, the Morning Reading Block has gradually been extended to 800 minutes per day. The Afternoon Math Block now stands at 650 minutes. (Lunch, recess, music, art, and history are held every fifth Wednesday from 11:19 until 11:27am.)
As the reading block began, everything seemed to be normal. Daniels had written the words “deal” and “agree” on the board. Students were instructed to work with a partner to write a sentence using the words “deal” and “agree”.
Shawn asked for a pencil. But Daniels’ emergency pencil box was empty. “Could somebody please loan a pencil to Shawn?”, asked Daniels. Nobody gave a pencil, but one student volunteered that Shawn was ugly. Daniels, himself out of pens and pencils, started to look through his desk. With his head down and looking through drawers, three to five students got up from their desks to look out the window. The lawn was being mowed.
Unable to find a pencil or pen, Daniels instructs Shawn to sit down and again asked if anyone would help. “OK, boys…we’ve all seen grass cut before. Come and sit down. Let’s get to work. Now!”
The boys started back to their seats. On the way back, Timmy bumped into Tasha and she poked a pen into her eye. She screams. Loud. Daniels examined the eye. He is no doctor, but it looked OK to him. The hole was small; and the pen had come out. Tasha is excused to get a paper towel from the bathroom.
All of the boys from the window have returned to their seats. Kids start asking about Tasha. “OOOOOH!!!!…her eye be fucked up!!” And so forth…
“OK, so, DEAL. Who’s got a good sentence with the words DEAL and AGREE in it?”, persists Daniels.
Fucking silence. Blank stares. And the stench of indifferent mediocrity.
Angie in the corner says, “My pencil broke.” Daniels tells her to “go sharpen it”. Angie walks over to the electric pencil sharpener. “Can anybody give me a sentence with the words”……BRSHZZZSHRSHRSHRZZZZZSHTSHTSHZZZT
(That’s sort of what an old electric pencil sharpener sounds like.)
“Are your done, Angie?”, asks Daniels.
“Good. Can anybody give me a sentence…” BRSHZZZSHRSHRSHRZZZZZSHTSHTSHZZZT
“Sit down, Angie!…Jeezus.”
“But it wasn’t sharp enough.”
“Right. Fine…just please sit. Fuck sakes…”
Suddenly Daniels realizes that four children are asleep. Four more are playing tic-tac-toe. Seven are just sitting there and don’t even seem to know where they are. Five have wandered back to the window to watch the grass cutting and are calling each other faggots. One is under her desk, taking off her socks. Three are punching each other. Two have completed sentences, dependent clauses really, including the words “deal” and “agree”.
Daniels, reluctantly, runs to the back of the room to break up the fight. Then he yells louder than anybody has ever yelled before. He was probably swearing quite a bit, but it was so loud that nobody could even understand. It sounded like a cross between a T-Rex and a whale…like a crack-head T-Rex chasing a whale that was carrying a little whiny-ass kid…a long, drawn out, moany sort of hungry, angry roar.
Then, without warning, Mr. Daniels shit in his own trash can and started spitting cold coffee at everybody. At that point a student ran out of the classroom and brought in a security guard.
Confronted with eyewitness accounts, Daniels said, “Really? I spit coffee at them? That’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”