“You should come out to the formal,” I told one of my students, rather matter-of-factly. “Dress up and have a good time. Bring your sister as well.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’ll be great,” I assured her. “I’ll be there,” I said, as if my being there was worth the price of admission alone.

“What am I going to do there?” she stubbornly asked.

“Mingle? Enjoy the company?”

“I wouldn’t know anybody there…” she continued.

“You’d know me!” I said, with an arrogant puff of my chest and a silly grin on my face.

“But aren’t you like…King Shit in the math department?” she asked innocently.

“…King…Shit…?” I slowly repeated, confused.

“Yeah, like V.P. of the Math Society and everything. Other people say you’re like, King Shit. You’ll be too busy with everybody else.” she accused, as if it was painfully obvious.

It’s not often I’m left speechless. Then again, it’s not often I’m called “King Shit” of anything.

“Let me tell you a story,” I said, still smiling after the requisite groans swept through the class.

“Back when I was in elementary school — maybe when I was 8 years old — I would always walk home near a church. It sort of looked like this…”

“But instead of walking along the paved roads, I would always cut across the lawn of the church. And for the longest time, I wondered why this was the best path. How did you know cutting across the lawn was the shortest way of getting home? I mean, how did you really know? How does one go about actually proving it?”

“It wasn’t until I looked into the so-called triangle inequality…”

“…that I realized, ‘Hey, so that’s why I always made it home on time to watch tv!’. I always thought that was neat. Then again, what growing boy hasn’t thought of this?”

“Did you walk home alone?”, asked a student.

Before I had a chance to answer, another one quipped, “Obviously.”

There was little I could say or do that would drown out the loud snickering that ensued.

I walked in to give the Linear Algebra tutorial the other day and saw thirty students snickering, along with this scandalous message, neatly printed in big letters on the black board:

Yeah, I know the poetry is horrendous — as if they couldn’t find a third word to rhyme with ‘nut’ and ‘butt’ .

And besides, practically everyone knows that my ass cheeks, like Michelangelo’s David, are Roman in both proportion and muscularity. Hell, give em’ a squeeze. Go ahead. I promise you won’t be disapointed.

So for the few students who are reading this – you and I, we’re going to have a serious discussion about my derrière next Wednesday. Do your homework, takes notes, and prepare to kiss my ass, you little brats.

9:00 - Period 1: Calculus (Related Rates)

I just finished telling a group of kids one of my stories and one of the girls couldn’t help herself.

“That’d be so cool!”, she blurted out, amidst a sea of giggles, “I wish some guy would take me on a date and give me a 2 hour lecture on math.”

I don’t know whether it was the enthusiasm in her voice or the utter sincerity of her tone, but it was without the doubt, the hottest thing a girl has said to me. Ever.

9:00 - Period 1: Calculus (Related Rates)

…I spun around and eyed them suspiciously.

“Why…,” I asked with a curious raise of one eyebrow, “do you all seem so glum this morning?”

That seemed to ease them up. While most of the class chuckled, someone yelled out “We’re scared” from the back of the room. Not knowing what exactly to say, I simply grinned and got back to the lesson.

9:00 - Period 1: Calculus (Related Rates)

…and because I know you’re all so anxious to find out what I do…”, I said while writing on the blackboard.

I turned around and noticed one of the students at the back of the room with his eyes wide open. I could have sworn his complexion was a peculiar shade of green.

“I am so dropping Calculus,” he said, his adam’s apple bulging as he gulped.

10:20 - Period 2: Calculus (Related Rates)

“You need to really make sure you always do this step,” I emphasized while my back was to the students, “or else Ms. [S] will totally own your ass.”

I clapped my hand to my mouth as half the class gasped and the other half laughed.

“I apologize,” I said, mortified, “I’m unnecessarily vulgar to all the kids in University, but I was hoping I’d be able to keep a clamp on my yap here in High School.”

10:20 - Period 2: Calculus (Related Rates)

I was still writing when Ms. [A] walked in and handed me a Styrofoam cup of expensive Starbucks coffee.

“Awww Miss, you’re too kind,” I said, frowning at my yellow-chalked-covered hands.

“Don’t worry Phil”, she said, “I have a box of Wet Ones in my class.”

The kids in the front giggled.

“…For his hands!”

They giggled even harder as I shot them one of my oh-grow-up looks.

10:20 - Period 2: Calculus (Related Rates)

Ms. [S] left the room and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.

“Can you come back and teach again?”, someone near the front asked.

“Just teach the entire course!”, someone at the back yelled.

The rest of the class chimed in noisily. I smiled politely and got back to the lesson, but with an odd, pleasant feeling in the pits of my stomach.

10:20 - Period 2: Calculus (Related Rates)

They were loud now. Much too loud.

“Guys!”, I yelled out with as much sternness as I could muster.

Several people Shhhhed loudly, but the rest of the class refused to be daunted.

“Next question is part of your Quiz!”, I tested gingerly.

No effect.

“I’m giving you a Test!”, I tried again.

No effect.

“I’m failing all of y’all”, I screamed.

No effect.

Lunchtime

The bell rang.

To my delight, half a dozen students crowded around me, refusing to listen to their hunger pangs and the calls of their friends.

They asked me what grad school was like. They asked me about studying Business at Carleton. They asked me how many chicks I saw in math. They asked me if it was okay to do this and that.

They asked me to come back again.

Lunchtime

“Sure I’d love to have him teach some of my classes,” Ms. [K] said to Ms. [S], “but we can’t very well leave him alone, right? He’s not a qualified teacher.”

“No,” I interrupted them, “but you can take frequent and extensive washroom breaks.”

Thanks Dave for keeping me entertained. Dave sent me this link to 33 6-word-stories written by various authors and celebrities.

For my former high school mates: Guess who’ll be lecturing two Calculus classes Friday mornings at the ol’ stompin’ grounds? I know given my schedule and responsibilities, it was really stupid of me to take on this job, but I’ll deal.

I wonder if the twelfth graders will remember me.