I had the meanest teachers in the world!

They made me sit in an assigned seat, and they picked
who sat beside me, with no regard for who my friends were.
If I didn't do my work, they moved that seat up beside their desk
where they could watch my every move.

They made me write neatly, in complete sentences.
My complaints about my artistic impulses being stifled
actually made one of them laugh!

They made me turn in my work, complete and on time.
If I tried to turn in something shoddy, they made me do it over,
crushing my self-esteem.

In fact, they actually criticized my work! They seemed to feel
that if thousands of people over hundreds of years could write
complete, coherent sentences, so could I.

They denied my constitutional rights! I was not allowed to speak
whenever and to whomever I wanted. They cruelly forced me
to raise my hand and get permission before talking.

My math teachers were among the worst! They insisted I show
my work, even if the answers were right! And if I did one wrong,
they made me do many more correctly.

Then there was my English teachers. They insisted I read
dull, old stuff, like Treasure Island or Romeo and Juliet,
instead of relevant things like fashion magazines or sports.

My science teachers were no better. First they would tempt us
by getting out microscopes or Bunsen burners, then spoil it all
by forcing us to follow ridiculous safety rules.

And those social studies teachers! They had the nerve to demand
that we memorize things like the organization of the government,
as if we needed to know that stuff. And who cares about World
War II and the Holocaust! That's old stuff.

I thought my PE classes would be a relief, but no! We had to
actually exercise and get all sweaty. Then there was the PE
teacher who had the candy machines taken out and new ones put in
with granola bars and junk like that.

And so it went: the art teacher who wouldn't let us get away with
sloppy work, the music teacher who actually wanted us to learn
what all those notes meant, the vocational teachers who wanted us
to take care of our tools.

Even the janitors got in the act, demanding we throw
our own trash away, like it wasn't their job to pick up after us.
And the principals were the worst. They would listen to us, and
back up the teachers every time. It was horrible.

So now I'm grown up and out of school, I have a good job, I am a
responsible citizen, able to take care of myself, and I've got
these kids, who know nothing, care about nothing but fun,
and don't want to do any work,

and every day, when I drive past my old school, I want to stop
the car, get out, and yell as loud as I can at the whole lot of them:

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!