Feewings…Nothing more than feewings…Twying to forget twose feewings of wove. PC is the perceived reality that has run amuck. People feel…therefore it exists. Right. Like a frigging virus. That’s where we are today and little else really matters in public life other than what’s perceived. I’m pretty much a Neanderthal in another reality who often doesn’t give two craps about the one dimensional emotional plane where many seem to live. My WTF approach to PC perception often brings knee-jerk reactions. Sometime I wonder if I’ve gone cockroach in a Kafka-ish sort of way. Oh-well. Such is life. So many RETARDS…So here it is. Jason and Malachi were my buds. Often in my classroom before and after school and during planning. They helped clean boards, sweep the room and straighten desks. Fascinated by Chemistry demos of things that burnt and went boom or the simple machines that allowed me to lift the both of them with the press of a foot or one hand pulling a chain. And both would never be beyond the level of a fifth or sixth grader. MMR, mildly mentally retarded with IQ’s of about 65. Their classroom was across the hall and had all things needed for a self-contained special-ed classroom. A fridge to keep frozen dinners and drinks cold and a microwave to heat my lunch or a cup of Earl Grey. I didn’t have to go far. Jason was big and fast and could have played football with a bit more ability, the coach tried but he couldn’t learn plays. Malachi had one hell of a baritone voice and would sing for their teacher, Miss Peggy, to help calm tantrums of others in class. When I first met them and saw their wonderment in what I was going to do in class, got permission from Peggy and over they came to watch something cool. Only demos could be done with my normalites. Kids totally et-up with the dumb-ass who would tear up a frigging anvil. Demo done. Class over and time for a cup of Earl Grey. As I enjoy a cup of tea talking with Peggy, I asked Jason and Malachi what they thought about the demo. They hee-hawed around looking away and at their shoes not wanting to make eye contact. WOW! Was it that bad? Peggy told them, Mr. Mike asked a question and they should answer. Malachi did. Looked me in the eye and told me DEM KIDS WAS BAD! Yep! Every frigging class I had was overflowing with retards of the worst kind and the fecal matter was about to impact the rotating oscillator. One of my retards went home and told his retarded alcoholic mom that I had a couple of special ed students in the room and she in turned complained to a retarded assistant principal. The ambush/meeting of a parent-teacher-administrator was set. Retards…Didn’t know I’m a Neanderthal. I could smell the metabolised alcohol coming out of her pores before she sat down to begin her rude tirade for having “lesser types” in the classroom with her child. It lasted all of ten seconds, just long enough for me to see the assistant principal expected me to sit and listen. The retard who expected me to give nothing less than 50 to all students. Zero average for the day-week-nine weeks-semester-year? THAT’S A 50! Don’t want retards feeling bad. Need to help them develop self-esteem. Right. Now of course I was professional but the jest of what I said was pretty curt and addressed her as though the assistant principle wasn’t in the room. Cut that alcoholic retard off and told her like it was. I didn’t give a damn what her dumb-ass thought. Her retard had a ZERO AVERAGE and was one major pain-in-the-ass to me just like he was to everyone else in the school. Thought he quit soon after this meeting, nineteen and in the tenth grade but learned he was arrested. Got mad at the people at the Wynn Dixie for firing him. Went back in the wee hours, blew the backdoor lock with a shotgun and lit all the charcoal in the store with charcoal starter. Assistant principle was pretty upset with me after the meeting, like I cared. But still professional only smiling now and nothing curt about my reply. Told the idiot I could be replaced anytime, I’m milquetoast and would go quietly. Of course he didn’t…too much work so I completed my contract. He was promoted to principal a year or two later and left town overnight, literally. Caught stealing concession money from football games. What a frigging retard. They've reload several times since this thief with more of public education’s finest administrators. I started the year with about 120, most were retards and I had more that a fair share of freak-a-zoids. By January about 60 remained, most were good kids. Half the class was expelled, arrested or quit. There were a few good ones who finished the year with me, none of whose names I remember until we bump into each other around town and then we talk about all the crazy ones back in the good ole days. The saddest case was a darling little girl who was an “A” student, loved to learn and fell through the cracks. She should have been in a more advanced class. She’d catch me at parades or Wal-Mart, anywhere she saw me outside of school I was going to get a hug. Even my wife gave me the WTF look the first time she saw her latch onto me. And then one day she wasn’t in class. Her second day’s absence I was worried and the guidance counselor wouldn’t tell me why she wouldn’t be coming back. Another teacher did. She lived with foster parents and the freak-a-zoid of the house had raped her. But Jason and Malachi, they were my good buds all year long. A good ole boy with a tree cutting business hired Jason. He’s been adopted by the crew. He can sweep, rake, pick up limbs and they watch over him. Malachi is a bit less fortunate, works at MacDonald’s. Some days are pretty good when I see him because he’s wearing his singing face. Other days, not so good. I can tell when some retard at work has been making fun of him. So to those bothered when I use the word RETARD…Oh well. I’m a Neanderthal and Elmer Fudd can sing you a song.