| Handling the First Bleep of the Day |
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Jack from Missouri (the “Show Me” State) … A Teacher’s Journal. (Interior: 7:30 a.m. Beginning of school day: Hallways crowded with young eager faces. As the camera draws closer, we hear individual voices…. Enter AMBER. She is about fourteen. In one hand she holds a Yoo Hoo; in the other a Ho Ho. Ipod plugs are in both ears. She waves to a friend, then screams a deafening “Hey, Tiffany!” as she begins a fast shuffle down the hallway. Her Yoo Hoo slops onto the floor as she runs.) AMBER: Did you see that f****g bitch Autumn? She’s f****g my boyfriend and it’s really starting to p*** me off! TIFFANY: (Also about fourteen. She is wearing a tee-shirt that reads “I Did the Sheriff, but I Did Not Do the Deputy.”) I would punch that b***h in the face. She’s gotta know that you will f**k her up if she won’t stop playin’ chicken head with Chuckie. INTERCOM: (A muffled, adult voice) It is now time for homeroom. Please get to your homeroom… (There is brief disturbance in the milling crowds, as if an errant fly or mosquito has broken a collective mood. It quickly passes. No one makes a move to leave the hallway.) INTERCOM: Please get to homeroom. If you are not in homeroom when the bell rings, you will be assigned… AMBER: (Responding to the intercom voice) Suck my c**k. TIFFANY: (In militant agreement) Yeah, suck it. (A TEACHER walks down the hallway. As he passes the girls, he says in a firm but polite voice): Let’s get to homeroom, girls. TIFFANY: (Instantly affronted) Why you pickin’ on me? I didn’t do nothin! AMBER: (Seeing the fun in the moment) Yeah. Why you pickin’ on us? Why aren’t you yellin’ at everyone else? Are we special or somethin’? TEACHER: (Barely breaking stride down the hallway) Get to homeroom, girls. AMBER: (To the teacher’s retreating figure) F****g faggot. TIFFANY: (A little louder) Yeah, suck on this, faggot. AMBER: (After a brief silence) Did you do the vocab homework? TIFFANY: I just wrote any s**t down. All you gotta do is write s**t down and you get credit. AMBER: Who uses those words, anyway? I’m never gonna use words like ‘regress’ or some bulls**t like that. TIFFANY: (Wisely) It’s these lame-ass teachers. They gotta prove they’re doin’ something, so they give us this s**t to do. I mean, when the f**k am I ever gonna use a word like ‘assiduous’? Ass, maybe. But Da-jewus, no. AMBER: (Giving it serious thought) It’s… like… everyone’s a retard. TIFFANY: Yeah… like… an assiduous retard. AMBER: (Laughing and nearly choking on her Yoo-Hoo) Good one! These assiduous retards can suck my c**k with regress—regress… (she can’t think of the right word or its proper usage). TIFFANY: (Forgetting word usage) So are you gonna fight Autumn? You should punch her in the face. Epilogue Dick Clark once said that music is the soundtrack of our lives. More and more, the conversations between Tiffany and Amber are becoming the sound track of my life. My name is Jack, and I'm a teacher in a small town in Missouri—the “Show Me” state…. Donald Gallinger is the author of The Master Planets Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites               
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