Thursday, March 4, 2010

a B.S. in U.F. ...or just B.S.?

(Chris and I stewed over this topic last night. Per his request, this blog was written.) So you run into an old friend or meet a random person and the small talk you were so eagerly looking for ensues...
Me: "Congrats on graduating, man. What are your plans now?"
Him: "Well, I'm applying to high schools for Health & Phys Ed jobs."
Me: "Thats cool, man. Good luck."

I lied. This is not cool. You want to tell him he's made an awful career choice, but here's the thing - he also knows it's not cool. He is in the group who know they are lazy. They also know that Health & Gym (remove the glossy Physical Education label) is a dead teaching subject. He knows that he chose quite possibly the easiest major. He doesn't care. He's getting paid no matter what. Lesson plans don't matter to him, especially after tenure comes. Who's gonna fire him for using the same dodgeball lesson plan for the next 40 years? He wants his summers off, that's great. But why do nothing for 3 months when you could for 12? In my high school, Health & P.E. is no longer included in your GPA (this has to be the same case elsewhere). It has absolutely no impact on society, as proven by our country's teen pregnancy and obesity rates.

Sadly, some don't know though. This is the group to be scared of. These people shall be granted a B.S. in U.F. ( Bachelor of Science in Unfinished Business. This group consists of complainers and egomaniacs. The complainers peaked in high school, socially & physically. They complain about becoming an adult [cue the whiney voice] and all of the responsibilities. The glory days shield their immaturity. Unfortunately for them, they were never Zack Morris, A.C. Slater, or both of them combined. The egomaniacs were the ones who never passed the ball in Gym, as Chris says. They thrive on attention. A 15 year old decides to call Mr. Carter Mr. C and the monster is born. Each day from 8-2:30, Mr. C struts down the hall ready to question the kid who doesn't dress for gym or to tell a kid to line up & shut up. They love having authority. But, as Mr. C leaves his domain and drives to his actual domain, he's addressed simply as Tom by a neighbor on trash night.

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