We love our gym teachers don’t we? They teach us everything about physical education possible. We learn the rules of soccer, the proper way to bench press, and how to keep our mouths shut when they stare at us in the showers a little too long. Never settle for anything less than $50 to keep quiet. Today I would like to discuss the gym teachers I had. I’ll try to keep the lesbian jokes to a minimum.
(His name’s Butch, he has a lesbian haircut, yet Eddie Munster is not a lesbian)
Mr. B – For the sake of protecting the guilty, I will not reveal real last names. With Mr. B, that isn’t a problem. He always went by Mr. B. I don’t think he had a real last name, just an initial. Like how some Chinese people have the last names Oh or Yu. He was a nice guy. His hair was fake though. It would flap in the wind while he warned us about giving our teams a two point penalty for talking while he as talking. As great as an elementary school gym teacher as he was, he gave me a lot of misconducts. I got one for excessive celebration after scoring a goal in soccer and another for making a save in floor hockey with my foot. Goalies were only allowed to make saves with their sticks. Mr. B, you didn’t know shit about sports did you?
Mrs. P – She was the counterpart of Mr. B. The bad cop to his good cop. The bitch to his Santa Claus. I think her being mean turned a lot of students gay. She was a real witch. I remember her yelling at two of my friends for drinking too long at the water fountain. What kind of Nazi does that? We had some rule that you could only drink from the water fountain for 5 seconds. That’s barely enough time to quench thirst from a vicious game of crab soccer. She ended up in my middle school and all of a sudden was really nice. This was the same year as a teacher’s strike. My mystery friend would claim that it was because “she got her big fat paycheck.” I think that was true. Now Mrs. P could upgrade her lesbian haircut from butch to lipstick.
Mr. V – This man was everybody’s favorite gym teacher of all-time. He was the cool guy in his 40s who acted like a retarded kid in his teens. Rumor had it that he played minor league baseball for the St. Louis Cardinals in the 1980s as a short stop. He would have made it to the majors but Ozzie Smith blocked his path. I heard the same thing, but it was that he was so superstitious that he couldn’t give up his baseball number. Who knows? Mr. V would take out the male students during recess to play games of football. He loved being around young males. If he didn’t have a smoking hot daughter I would have been sure he lived in a house full of young males obsessed with football. He also loved short shorts and owned a Tim Couch jersey. Never before has Tim Couch been referenced anywhere. Never again will he be.
(Stop gloating. I’m the only one who remember who you are)
Mr. J – The man who inspired so much entertainment for me. I never even had him as a teacher yet I’ve written 3 movies, 5 television shows, and a book based around him as the central character. Okay, it’s not really about him and the character being portrayed as him is nothing like the real man. He wasn’t an evil bastard like I make him out to be. My only memory of him was one day I was wearing a Pittsburgh Pirates t-shirt and he raised his fist at me and said “Go Steelers!” Mr. J only read half of everybody’s shirts. That’s why he’s such an inspiration on my life.
Mrs. J – I’d like to say no relation to Mr. J but I’d be lying. She was the wife of Mr. J. The fucktoy, if you will. I didn’t like her. She made fat jokes about me to one of her classes. What a whore. If my 7th grade year wasn’t horrible enough I had teachers attacking me for having no self-control. I had her for health class a few months later and she was never nasty to me then. I guess she realized I was nothing more than a quiet fat kid trying to make it through life without blowing myself up. Still, a murder suicide would not upset me. I know your former mailman bitch! I could have your mail sent somewhere else if I really want to.
Ms. S – The stereotype of all gym teachers. If the lack of an “r” in her title doesn’t give it away, Ms. S was a legendary lesbian. She was short, had grey hair, had the voice of a parrot, and didn’t know the difference between a badminton racket or a softball bat. She never aged either. I guess that isn’t so remarkable because she already looked to be the age of dead. Every day she would go outside with a thermometer and check the temperature. Sometimes she’d smile. Sometimes it was a frown. I never asked why she was doing this because that would involve chatting with her. My favorite memory of her was the time we had the activity of “walking” in gym class. Yeah, they’d have us walk through the park. I thought it would be funny if while going through the parking lot I went to my car and pulled out a bowl, a box of cereal, and some milk. Gym was the first class of the day and they always said how important breakfast was. I was eating a big bowl of cereal in front of her and she didn’t say a thing. I didn’t get in trouble for what completely backfired on me. Never try eating milk and cereal outside in 20 degree weather. Your hands will freeze and the hot girl you’re trying to make laugh will scowl at you for not taking things more seriously.
(I once was going to try to catch a Frisbee in my mouth to impress another girl during gym class. I heard she liked dogs, so I figured…)