 |
lies damn lies statistics |
|
I Hate My Job - Part 2: The Pep Assembly (read Part 1) by Miss Lady J. author info It is the annual spotlight assembly. Not the assembly for fall sports or school spirit or the state championship girls basketball. This is more academic in a nature. The timely dose of school mandated propaganda . I lead my class down to the gym. Upon entering I hear a Clash song . Mick Jones talking about people not eating. I offer extra credit to my students if they can tell me who is playing. I specifically address the cool-as-shit-or-soon-to-be-cool-as-shit skater boys. They think it is Bob Marley . I shake my head. They’ll learn. The first act is The Expressions. They’re just so gosh darned expressive. It is the old September 11 patriotic lie of democracy. The girls are in uniform of black pants, red lace dusters, over hot rolled hair and bad makeup. The boys are in shiny silver short sleeved shirts, black pants and black t shirts . They move as one giant organism with one hundred arms and one hundred legs. They are bright-eyed and choreographed. I feel like I am at some nightmare version of dinner theater. ‘cept it is the middle of the day and I am in the school gym. Jazz hands, jazz hands, jazz hands ! Bob Fosse is surely turning over in his grave as they rah rah rah for America. The boys in the group will realize they are gay,gay gay and go into legitimate theater. Next some awards. I clap only for the chess team. On to the cheerleaders. Girls and short skirts and show panties. Girls bending over in their short skirts and showing their show panties. The boys are extremely happy. Next the pompons. Brittany Spears wannabes complete with no bras and bare midriffs. At one point the girls shimmy suggestively and unbound adolescent breast are flying everywhere. A hormone filled young man’s dream come true. Chicks with titties popin at an all school assembly. A public display of sex. It will fuel their furious masturbation for months to come. I can’t watch. I’m sure the gym teacher who makes the girls do jumping jacks in their bathing suits before swim class is having a field day. I wish I was making this up.
More awards. The ultimate irony is when the kids from the NJROTC are announced and the song of choice is Bob Marley’s buffalo soldiers. Bob singing about bein' stolen from Africa and we are honoring our militarily brainwashed youth. I cover my mouth so no one sees me laugh. Abruptly the spectacle is over. Kids head to your third period class. You are dis-missed. |
||
|
Miss Lady J. is the goddess of all things aquatic, the tall blonde queen of vodka, Salsa Verde de la Casa Verde and an advice columnist to boot. She is a graduate of the prestigious Wendy Ward School of Modeling. Many folks think of her as a muse. All material copyright the authors, printed with permission.
|