Picture it… Sicily… 1942…

No really- picture your three favorite teachers.  They can be from elementary, middle or high school.  Maybe even pre-school.  Do you have a clear picture?  Good.  Now, picture a Friday afternoon, probably near Christmas break or the end of the year.  You, as the student, are super pumped.  Two weeks to two months off of school.  No more pencils, no more books, etc.  Now, picture your teachers.  They’re just as happy to be rid of you as you were of them… and they’re old enough to drink.  Visualize bottles of wine, cans of beer, and bowls of chips and pretzels littering a countertop at someone’s home.  Try and see the pleasant beginnings- hellos, how-are-yous, woo-aren’t-you-glad–to-be-dones.  Envision someone who keeps pouring everyone a little refill or handing out another can.  It gets louder and happier.  Someone turns the music up.  Someone, probably your reserved science teacher, starts dancing in the corner.  Soon, your uptight English Lit teacher starts grinding on your cute PE teacher.  People start laughing, telling stories… and, truth be told, probably making fun of you and your boyfriend.  They start talking about your abysmal US History final and how they expected so much more from you.  Your guidance counselor laughs because she doesn’t know how you got into (insert college here).  As the evening rages on, your teachers get more drunk, talk louder, fall all over themselves.  Someone walks into a door, someone else passes out in the bathroom.  The evening ends with cabs being called and someone losing a shoe.

Can you picture it?

No.  That’s because that would never happen.


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