Monday, February 28, 2011

This Is Their Black Vietnam Day!

Your students are going to embark on their uprising today. They’ll start burning their homework in a giant bonfire, then they’ll strip down to their waists and dance around the fire, occasionally stopping to perform sex acts on each other predesignated by the colors of the bracelets on their wrists.

“I always thought those bracelets were going to be the downfall of this generation,” you’ll say to the other teachers locked in the teachers lounge with you.

“I thought it was the video games. Especially that one called Murder The Adults. Sick,” another teacher will say.

“I thought it was the attention deficit disorder drugs,” the janitor will add.

“Jersey Shore. It was Jersey Shore and Four Loko and the fathers all leaving them behind,” the divorced school nurse will say.

“Quiet!” the school Principal will shout. “Let them tear it up. Our kids are finally reacting to their world, instead of shrugging their shoulders at it. This is their moment. This is their Black Vietnam.”

The Principal will then open the door to the lounge, run into the hall and shout, “Exact your vibrant vengeance upon me, kids! I am authority!!!”

The kids will launch themselves upon the principal and tear wads of his skin off in their teeth. One of the teachers will manage to get the door shut and locked.

Many of you will be crying quietly, until one teacher pipes up with a question.

“Why black Vietnam?”

No one will have an answer right away.

“Maybe he means like the civil rights movement and the anti-war movement rolled into one?” someone will suggest.

Some of you will nod.

“How old was Principal Watkins? 39?”

Yes, he was 39. So he pretty much knew very little about Vietnam. And he probably knew even less about Black Vietnam, whatever that is.

“Could he have meant the Rodney King riots?” someone will ask. “He lived in LA for a little while. He told me that once. Did they ever call the riots that?”

No. They never called the riots that. You’ll have another 36 hours of being locked in that lounge together before the police quell the student uprising, so it’s suggested you spend that time taking a vote on whether or not to amend the Principal’s last words before you’re asked on the morning news what they were. Maybe change them to something like “Those are my kids out there. I’m going to go reason with them.” Anything but the Black Vietnam thing. What the hell was that?

Happy This Is Their Black Vietnam Day!