I was quite right about how being Cecile Dubois' teacher has its ups and downs, and that most of them are downs. Now the poor woman can't make a move or say a word without being all over the blogosphere. Here's how Cecile's latest starts:
After noticing my apparent boredom this morning, my English bitterly teacher said, "And sorry Cecile if I'm subtracting from your learning - because the more work - the more it totals up to my mental breakdown!" And I didn't even acknowledge that one coming. I just nodded smugly to myself, as if she just threw a bag of dog poop past me and I hadn't noticed. Since my mom's NRO piece has been posted, I have had a layer of dignity.
That's the key to all this. A "layer of dignity". Nothing like writing up your entire decision to Take No Further Action about your daughter's difficulties at school on a mega-mega-website with a zillion-per-hour readership.
Meanwhile, Miss Teacher is having whatever layers of dignity she may once have had stripped away from her.
And then, my teacher shockingly showed us all her new ring her boyfriend of three months had given her. The irony is she spends half the time gushing over a Serbian baseball player rather than her boyfriend.
Yes, I'm starting to feel extremely sorry for this woman. I realise that she's probably her own worst enemy, but Cecile runs her a close second. What the old USSR used to call the "correlation of forces" has definitely tilted in that relationship.
There follow more Cecile recollections about other mad teachers of various kinds. But what if it was Cecile who drove them mad? Final paragraph:
In eighth grade, I had a mad science teacher the first semester who, in her other classes, would elaborate on her love life. When she left, the administration curbed our grades generously. And now I have an English teacher constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown. And this is private school.
Yes it is. And what great places these things schools are for sharpening the teeth of promising comic writers. Which reminds me that we have photographs of Cecile's beautiful smile when she was here in London just before Christmas, but we'll leave them for some other time.
I am wondering whether Cecile's teacher actually knows that Cecile has been reporting what has been going on to tens of thousands of largely sympathetic people. That would certainly help me have my nervous breakdown faster.
Well, seems like the teacher is handing away her own dignity on a big silver platter if she shares her love-life with her entire class, rather than Cecile having to strip it away for her...
Well, yes. I think Brian's comment about her being her own worst enemy, but with Cecile coming close behind, is just about right.
This Cecile person is clearly the modern equivalent of having the headmaster's son in your class, or the boss' son on your shift at the factory.
Pure poison, in other words, and precious little room for escape.
It doesn't matter how good or bad that teacher is, there is no hope. She needs to get out fast, and hand on the poisoned chalice to some ignorant unfortunate.
Uh, no, the teacher has no idea. One thing I don't allow on Cecile's blog is her real name or the names of her teachers or school. Because that would be unfair and an invasion of privacy.
Alice Bachini's "silver platter" comment made me laugh so hard. Hmmm...you may be on to something. With my blog, I am armed heavily. Now, I'm going to see if my teacher blogged yet...
hey alice!--someone has to have dignity in the first damn place in order to have someone else to "strip" it away!
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