Memoir of a Teacher: Chapter 7, Robin in the Rye

Memoir of a Teacher: Chapter 7, Robin in the Rye


IF YOU REALLY WANT TO HEAR about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I sprung forth from my mother’s loins, and what my craptastic childhood was like, and what my parents did before being hampered by children, and all that Old Testament begat kind of stuff… but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, I’m trying to suppress it as best I can and in the second place, my parents would flip their shit if I told anything unflattering about them. They’re quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They’ve mellowed a lot but they’re still touchy as hell. Besides, I’m not going to tell you my whole goddam life story or anything. I’ll just tell you about this teacher stuff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to go into therapy. I mean that’s all I told Chimpy about, and he’s my brother and all. He’s out in Backofnowhere. That is too far from this awesome place, and so he never visits. We do chat on the phone though. He just got a new cowboy hat, he says it makes people think he’s crazy. They’re right. We’re all crazy. It’s kind of like our family motto or something. He owns a business these days. So that pretty much sums him up, cowboy hat, business.

Where I want to start telling is the day I left Newcastle.  Newcastle is both the seat belt wearing and chlamydia capital of New South Wales. You probably heard of it. You’ve probably seen the Newcastle Knights, anyway. They’re a Rugby League team… I prefer Union.  But when people think of Newcastle all they seem to think of is drinking,  football and chlamydia. As if we’re all STD ridden bogans. Well I’ve never had any kind of STD (unless pregnancy counts, hi kids Mummy loves you) and the only football I’ve ever played is soccer.

Anyway, it was the Saturday of the football game with some other team. Look I told you, I don’t care for league. The game with was supposed to be a very big deal around Newcastle.  So either we were on a winning streak or on a losing one. It was the last game of the year maybe? Anyway, you were supposed to commit suicide or something if the Knights didn’t win. I remember around three o’clock that afternoon I was sitting on my arse watching television,  I could have watched the whole game from there, but again, I DON’T LIKE LEAGUE.

… … … and I’m spent.

This excerpt which went exactly nowhere was based on J.D. Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye.” I happen to love this novel and the style used so I highly recommend you read the real thing.


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