The Greatest Memories The memories I’ll take with me from 2025 with my class that I had until last month are musical. I’ll think about us all belting out Toto, “I bless the rains down in Africa! Gonna take the time to do the things we never diiiiiiid,” doom da doom doom doom!”
And getting down to Shaboozey’s big hit, Tipsy, “One, here comes the two to the three to the four… Say it’s last call and they kick us out the door. It’s gettin’ kinda late but the ladies want some more! Oh my, good lord! ///My baby wanna Birkin. She been telling me all night long.”
And Morgan Wallen’s sexy banger, “Last Night, we let the liquor talk, we can’t remember everything we said but we said it all. You told me that you wish I was somebody you never met! Well baby, baby, something’s tellin’ me this aint over yet. No way it was our last night!”
Then me and the other aides (middle aged gals) exchange a look that means how much WE LIKE Morgan Wallen, with his tight white jeans struttin’ around on stage. Some things go over the kids’ heads.
Then we play the song, Aint Got a Guy for That, by Post Malone feat. Luke Combs. I overthought this lyrics way too much. But at the end, I’m singing with my students,
“Know a V.I.P. up at M.I.T. And he still won't let me fly the time machine Someone to turn back the hands on my new AP But, buddy, what I really need
Is someone to put her tires back in the drive And if they don't, then I just might Lose what's left of my never-lovin' mind I'm damn near down to my last dime!”
Damn. I was a better choir director than academic teacher in some ways. But we had fun! If only their wasn’t an armed society of administration pointing bazookas at it, demanding the data that shows a likely profit for the nonprofit based on meeting standards designed to produce production and profit.
facts, I STILL aint got a guy for that.
Funny tangent— Last night while I was bar and club hopping in my dream life, somebody said, “We CAN’T go home yet! The Post Malone show just got out, so many dudes out there!”
It’s a persuasive argument. I DO wanna go where the dudes are at, but are they really there? Or is Post Malone’s concerts full of teenage white girls?
I like the combo of R&B with country, it’s an easy mix. Throw a little soft rap in there, sure, why not?
The song my class REALLY got into (especially the one I loved the most, Chance) was Tears for Fears, SHOUT… SHOUT… LET IT ALL OUT! These are the things I can do without! Come on! I’m talking to you… come on.
I’m completely unwilling to grieve the loss of this class, these students, ugh, too sad to comprehend. The lost boys. They go on without me now. Their hell never ends. They’re locked up. The environment elicits the worst behaviors possible, which means they don’t get to “earn” going back home, maybe never. Best case scenario, a group home will take them. For that, I write a report that makes them look attractive. they were always attractive humans in my book. Talented, funny, particular, intelligent, and brave. Truly tough survivors.
It’s impossible to keep track of anyone. We all go our separate ways.
We also loved to sing these other songs:
-Everybody wants to rule the world (as featured in the Minions movie) -a long list of kids educational type songs about planets, dinosaurs, etc. -That love song where the video is a mirror image of drawings in pencil, and the lover comes to life, what’s it called… Take on Me, by Aha.
That’s how we made school in a moldy basement room surrounded by chaos and broken hardware— that’s how we made it fun.
But I burned out. And it sucks for them. But it rocks for me. Because I’m never teaching for a non-profit again, or for the state. I refuse to use the degree I worked hard for years and years. I get to keep the knowledge. But my cover was blown, and they don’t want me back.
You are not eligible for re-hire. And I’m not interested in it, either. But the kids, with our music, our joy, that’s ours.