All Gym Teachers are Jerks

But really. Is it a job qualification? On the application, question 1: "are you a jerk? If yes, please continue. If no, please feel free to stop filling out the application altogether." Question number 2: "do you have athletic ability? If yes, please continue. If no, continue anyway, cause who needs knowledge about what they'll be teaching?"

Every gym teacher I've had has been a total d-bag. The first one I remember was in the third grade, and he wasn't even technically a "gym teacher." That was in a public elementary school where P.E. was a reward (not for me-I always hated it). He was this fat, old guy who sat at the head of the room and yelled our instructions at us. 

The next gym teacher I remember is a woman. She was a really nice lady, in all honesty, when she wanted to be, which was often. I guess mostly she was strict. That was in the regular classes she taught. But when you got her in the gym or out on the field, she was a witch. I admittedly faked sick several times throughout my year having this woman as a gym teacher. I dreaded that last hour of school where I had to endure her barking orders and forcing me to be athletic (I'm a very, very selectively athletic person; I'm good at one sport).

THEN. Middle school just sucks altogether, right? Well.. Gym teacher from hell. He worked with my mom because she worked at my school from 6-8 grade. So he knew my mom. And they were a little bit friends, even though my mom totally agreed that he was a jerkface. I don know what it was about this man.. Maybe he was just really sarcastic, because he had been nice-ish to me on occasion, but if he was sarcastic, it was very unreadable. I'm pretty sure he's just mean. 

One day before I had class, I'd forgotten to wash my shirt. So I asked my mom to throw it in the wash. She put my light grey gym uniform shirt into the wash with a dark red something. I'm not even sure what that something was now, but it was red. She put it on cold, so it wasn't supposed to bleed. I was still a little leery of this act, but I trusted her judgment. Well, it bled. My grey shirt was tinted ever so slightly pink. You really couldn't tell. Well, you couldn't tell till you put me in a room with 25 other kids whose shirts were not tinted slightly pink. Of course the teacher commented, I told him the story, incredibly embarrassed, hoping he'd spare me since it wasn't my fault and he was sort of buddy with my mom. Well, I was wrong. He took away some of my points for that day. I was so mad that I wanted to cry, because that's what I do when I'm incredibly mad. Eventually, the shirt problem was resolved, even if it was the only problem with him that was, because my mother is quite outspoken when it comes to her children's well-being. 

So having a parent work at your school is a perk, even if it was her fault in the first place.