Hot for teacher


"Each one of us has this nasty little sexual fantasy, some thing that's so dark and so twisted you almost judge yourself. Something that no matter how close you are with your lover, even during one of those all night "Hey I killed somebody once" conversations, you would NEVER tell them. And that thing, somewhere there is a magazine dedicated just to that. And some guy has to work there. Somewhere your deep dark fantasy is somebody else's pain in the ass job."-Patton Oswald

The other day I was talking to a friend of mine who makes extra cash by being a "freelance dominatrix". We were supposed to meet that night for drinks and she called an hour later to say "Can we make it ten? I just got a call from a guy who wants me to dress up like a teacher and spank him."

The two most common questions I field when people find out what I do for a living are: have you ever been attracted to a student or have you ever been hit on by a student?

Have I ever been attracted to a student? Well, yes. Every once in a while, I walk into a classroom, and before anyone says anything I see a student who is attractive.

And then he speaks.

And it's all over. Honestly there is very little use in my world for an 18 year old boy except as a decorative door stop.

Have I ever been hit on by a student?

No, although I've had a few that got dangerously close. I have heard from reputable source that many of my students HAVE crushes on me. But honestly, I would rather not consider that ten years from now these same guys are going to be paying dominatrixes to dress up like me and spank them. I'm even icked out by the concept that at night alone in their bedrooms they imagine that underneath my ankle length skirt ( ok I admit I don't have an ankle length skirt, but go with me on this one) I am wearing a leather garter belt and matching bustier.

A quick search on google for the song "hot for teacher" yielded these results. The "see students fucking their sexy teachers" tag line for the first site made me shiver in revulsion, but it does illustrate that my students are not alone in their passion. Teachers often feel the same way about their students. ALthough I do not entertain fantasizes about students, other teachers in my own department don't feel the same way. One male professor tells his female students "As soon as you graduate, I can date you." He's only half teasing. He has confessed to me on many occassions of being so overwhelmed by the physical attractiveness of some female students as to be on the verge of irresistable impulse. Some female teachers have also confided in me about attractions to male students. Furthermore, although not in my department, there have been many cases of student/teacher relationships, even at my own high school. (An English teacher at my high school took a year off so she could marry one of her former students, who had gone to college. When she returned to teach, she was pregnant with his child. Although everyone knew about the affair, the school never took any action against her.)



To be fair, everybody has had at least one teacher crush myself included. Mine was junior english teacher in high school. He looked like a young Andy Garcia. I never fantasized about him. For me, it was enough just to sit and listen to him talk about Arthur Miller or Sophocles. Most of the other girls were after either the young math teacher, Mr. G ( who lost his mind later and would only eat soy products and always entered and exited his apartment through the window-which was on the second floor and only accessible by climbing the rose trellis) or Mr. B ( who left to go to seminary). Although others may have imagined, or actually succeeded in bedding, their teachers, I never could even imagine my teacher crush with his shirt off. Much like Angela in the film American Beauty, as much as I flirted with him if he had actually tried anything with me, I think I would have fled in terror. (I didn't do anything but kiss a boy until I was 18-ain't backlash a bitch?)

I still think about him sometimes. He was only about five years older than me, which would put him at about 35. I wonder, would I still want him if he wasn't my teacher?

And would I be able to imagine him without his shirt now?




Rude

You know I was going to put up this terribly kinky post about how many people fantasize about their teachers and how this makes me feel but.....

I return from class to find Enfant Terrible and Spinster chatting in my office. Now that I don't mind that so much. We often use the office that just happens to be closest or has the fastest internet connection with no hard feelings. I do mind when I show up to my office, and the people "borrowing" it make such a show of it being an inconvience for them, especially as they are just chatting.

I sat down and put down my stuff as Enfant Terrible, who rarely acknowledges I exist, slumped down in the opposing chair and demanded I give her some of my lunch because she was hungry. She kept insisting. Now I have no problem sharing my food with people if I think it'll be a fair situation. I often treat people to lunch or drinks because I know that these people will, at some poin in the future, treat me. It will eventually come out even. Also, I often treat people, if they don't have money and I actually like them. Enfant Terrible falls into neither category especially when she is sitting in my office uninvited. She is especially possessive of the food she brings in. If anyone so much as looks at her bagel, she has a fit. So I refused her. Several times. She reminded me of the drunken guys who hit on me in bars, "What part of no didn't you understand?" I was tempted to say.

Then she launches into a diatribe about her novel, and after all these months of work it's done; she is worried it's crap. What she wants me to do is stroke her ego. Like I have that kind of time. So after I tell her for the fifth time she should just submit the novel and stop worrying it, which is the last thing she wants to hear, she decides to leave my office. But not before asking me, "Do you have to work here? Can't you work in one of the other offices so I can check my email?" Mind you, I'm in the middle of typing of something. So I said, "Enfant, it's my office." Finally, she left.

Jeez....I mean, is it me or is that just amazingly obnoxious? Feel free to share with me your obnoxious cow-rker stories to make me feel like I am not alone.
The Devil took the six train

So the other day after my thesis correcting extravaganza, the ex-boyfriend and I lay on the couch and watched "the Devil's Advocate." (Actually first we tried watching "Barbarians" on the history channel, but it proved to deep for our fried noggins.)

Anyway, there are two scenes where the Devil, played by Pacino, takes the subway. Initially, I found it odd as I always pictured the Devil taking one of those white stretch Hummer limos with the zebra print interior (complete with interior mood lighting no less). But upon reflection, I realized that of course the Prince of Darkness would support the MTA as only the truly diabolical could dream up such a simple, yet effective, form of torture as the New York subway system. ( And don't even get me started on the buses here. I think that's a whole section of the Inferno that Dante forgot.)


"It would be so nice, it would be paradise, to come home to you..."

The other night I was helping an ex boyfriend with his PhD thesis. (Yes, I am indeed a kind soul. He assures me that my kindness will return to me. I could care less if it does as long as I receive the GRE tutoring I have been promised as payment. Karma is nice, but I'm a Roman at heart. It's all about the quid pro quo.) I was helping him, and I had to go to dance class ( I hadn't anticipated that he would need quite that much help.) He was sitting on my couch and he said, "Go to your class. I have my laptop with me. I can make the corrections. When you come back we can finish."

So off I ran to dance class. I usually I take my time chatting afterwards. I have a glass water and talk to the teachers, but not that night. I quickly changed and headed back to my apartment.

I came home, and he was lying on the couch. He ordered food for us while I showered and then we sat on the couch and finished his thesis. "I'm really glad we did this" he said at the end "doing it this way made it a lot less painful."

For me it's been so long since I returned to my apartment to have a man waiting there for me for any reason, I almost forgot how pleasant it was. Even if he had his feet up on the couch. It was nice to have a reason to come home. To have someone waiting.

Even if it was just because he has no concept of comma usage.
The Strangest Thing

You know, whenever I go back to classes I feel dread and rage. Before I even get to the room, I have this whole sturm und drang routine I'm going to give them. The whole "Machiavelli said if you must choose between love and fear-pick love-for the love of man is fickle and easily lost-well I've tried to rule through love and that didn't work so welcome to fear" complete with historical allegory and dramatic peaks type of speech.

And then I stand in front of them, and I start to talk to them. And I am reminded of the best parts of my job, the interesting questions and comments, the engagement, the applause when I walk in the room ( no kidding), the ego stroking. And I just can't bring myself to give them the strum and drang because I realize as I talk to them that I missed them. (Often students return from break saying my class is the one class they missed or they looked forward to returning to-of course they will forget this quickly)

Damn it, it was such a good speech.


The Way of the Roman Empire

Ah yes, it seems my decadent vacation has come to an end. No more afternoons spent idly discussing opera with russian novelists. No more plotting the destruction of ex-boyfriends. No more sleeping until two in the afternoon after an evening of wild drinking out of the fishbowls at brother jimmy's.

Nope.

Just the quiet return of desperation.