Doodles

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In a former life, I was a school teacher.

Days like this were not uncommon.

I’ll never go back, but I do miss it sometimes.

Back in high school, I had a terrible habit of doodling on desks. I mostly doodled my name, but I had nothing against hearts or stars or little swirly figures either. I loved my name though. I made it really fancy with a big ‘ol E and the other three letters small and neat or curvaceous and fancy. I loved doodling my name. Someone once told me that meant I was destined to be famous and that I was practicing my autograph. I thought that was a really nice thing to say, though it did give me false hopes. Anyway, when I was about sixteen, on the last day of summer school (yes, I was kind of bad in high school and attended July and August classes every single year) the teacher brought in a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Fantastic and told me I had to clean all of the desks. She was a nice, fun teacher, so I didn’t take it as being mean, just teaching me another lesson. These days, she would’ve been tossed right into that rubber room. (That’s where the NYC Department of Education sends “bad” teachers while they’re under investigation for their heinous crimes. I think there’s a short film about it floating around somewhere. I’ll try to find a link…)

Now I’m the teacher (imagine that!) and I don’t know if it this is a phenomenon exclusive to my school, or if it happens everywhere, but for some reason teenage boys (and I am blaming the boys because I just happen to think the girls would give the subject matter a kinder hand) LOVE to draw big huge dicks on their desks–now the actual penises themselves aren’t always huge-sometimes it’s a pair of big balls and a little shrinky dink, sometimes it’s a big ol’ thing and tiny balls, what I mean by big is that they generally take up the entire desk. Sharpies are “illegal” in my school, but somehow these kids, they still get them in. Anyway, I remembe this one desk with an absolutely GIGANTIC penis. It was even groomed, with little stubble on the balls and everything. It even had a pee hole. I mean, I saw this work of art three rows back. I couldn’t pay attention to anything else–it was so freakin’ disturbing. And I told the kid to get up, that he shouldn’t have to sit at a desk with that sketch in front of his face every day.

We were moving things around and a girl raised her hand. I thought she wanted the bathroom pass or something, so I said “Yes, so and so?? Don’t you see we are moving the desks?” And she informs me “Miss, you know, Purell will remove sharpie from the desk?” Of course, being a teacher I have a huge bottle Purell in my purse all of the time, so I grabbed it without looking and went to squirt some on and wouldn’t you know, it was the MOISTURIZING kind–so it was White! I almost fainted. I had just sprayed this gigantic drawing of a cock with what could only be interpreted as cum—all over the place. This cock came really hard. I was frantic. The class was in hysterics. Chaos ensued. I searched every drawer in the teacher’s desk for those stiff, brown Board of Education paper towels. I found nubs of chalk, a couple of sick notes, some Health handouts (Lord, it sure is easy being a Health teacher…) but no paper towels. The kids were roaring with laughter. I had made a bad situation nine million times worse. I told the girl who suggested the Purell to go get me some paper towels STAT and tried to contain the class I had most certainly lost control of.

After about a million years, the girl returned. I scrubbed away at that thing so fast and furiously while I had the kids “work” on their assignments. But guess what! It worked! The giant man part covered in semen disappeared. And what was once the dirtiest desk in the classroom had suddenly become the cleanest and most germ free! I did learn to carry plain ol’ purell in my bag from then on and I check all of the desks in the morning before the kids get there to make sure there are no dicks or derogatory terms or gang affiliated ramblings. Good ol’ Purell–imagine THAT ad campaign?

Stay tuned for the story of the flaccid penis keyed into my brand new car. It’s a doozy…

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