Lil Wicked, my twelve year old niece, and I were having a serious discussion over the weekend.
You see, my whole family attended public schools during our formative years. We all turned out pretty damn good if I must say so myself. It seems that living amongst the Mcmansioned requires one to send their offspring to fancy, schmancy private schools; Parochial ones. I shudder just thinking about it. To each is own is what I used to say until it hit close to home.
Lil Wicked is attending St. Francis of the Behemoths or some such institution. (Can you hear me God? It’s me Wicked H!) She was telling me that the majority of her teachers were of the plus sized variety. Let me clarify, they are plus sized female instructors who arrive dressed for class in psychedelic moo moos.
The tarp covered faculty members enjoy dolling out detentions and the like because due to their size they are restricted from keeping their students in line. Besides that, most are unable to keep the assignments up to date on the school’s web site so that the parental units can make sure their precious cargo are learning to the full extent of the several thousand dollar tuition.
Lil Wicked was explaining how most of the outfits were so distracting, it was making her eyes tear. Now, I must tell you that it took all my strength not to make fun of these educators. You all would have been so proud of me. I cleared my throat and in my most serious tone, I suggested that perhaps a petition needs to be started asking that the teachers also must wear the uniforms that the students are forced to exhibit. Lil Wicked thought about it for a moment and declared that she’d rather see a freaky frock than a mammoth woman in an plaid skirt.