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Lotta' Porkers In The Seventh Grade before/after When I was in eigth grade, I had a teacher who was something of a psychotic. He was a recovering alcoholic, so was his wife, and monday's were a mean time. He was the type of guy you think you are joking around with, only to have him stop on a dime and turn on you, and you wonder how he came to think you were joking around about him. A very strange and intense character, you could hear him shout throughout his wing of the school. Rumour had it that he threw a kid through the wall, and dragged another to the office by the hair. That moody fucker could shout. Usually for no reason, and, as I said, would be left wondering what I had done to set him off. Anyway, he was an uncreative teacher, really. His lesson plans were simple and dull. I'm sure the heavy boozing might have had something to do with this. He would often set us to read something, which is fine, except when what you are reading is dull. (That and I was a fast reader) So I finish, to find him staring out his window with binoculars at the seventh graders, the incoming eighth grade. He'd spotted a mole on a kid's back, and was trying to verify whether it was benign or not, I guess. This is what he said, anyway. Who knows what his agenda really was, the guy was a maniac. I heard him mutter under his breath, "Ye-aa-ah. Lotta' porkers in the seventh grade."
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