Today’s Moron: Dave Wilson, the Porno Party Principal

Meet Dave. Dave used to be the man in charge at Louisville Male High School in Louisville, Kentucky. Dave is out of a job after his bosses learned he was a bit of a problem. How bad? Let’s see: there was the distinct smell of booze on his breath from time to time, and that raised some eyebrows. But hey, every school has a drunk teacher, right? I had a geography teacher for a couple of years in high school who missed every Monday first period, and would show up around lunch looking green and smelling like gin.

Dave’s big mistake wasn’t the drinking, though. It was the private porno party starring students. Some of his staffers reported that he got his sweaty hands on a copy of a school surveillance tape that had caught two students having sex in the cafeteria. He invited some teachers to his office, lowered the blinds, dimmed the lights, and projected the image on a big screen, making lewd comments throughout. Weather Station sources could neither confirm nor deny the presence of Miller High Life and Nacho Cheese Doritos.

The other teachers were outraged at the video, and at their boss’s behaviour, and stormed out, and one filed a complaint.

Wait, hold on. What’s a Male High School? Boys only? What kind of movie was this? I’ll Google it. Hmmm, it seems Dave is still listed as principal. That’s likely to change. It doesn’t say anything here about whether this is a co-ed school or not, but I guess it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about the school. It’s about the moron. Dave is a pig, and this is either child pornography or dangerously close to it. I’m stunned that no criminal charges were laid.

The part that irks me is the outcome. Dave was allowed to retire. He’ll get a pension, and benefits, and probably have his portrait hung in the hallway or something. I can’t stomach that kind of back-patting sendoff for pigs like this.

The school, though, is content to sweep the whole thing under the rug. Interim principal Ted Boehm told the local paper, the Courier-Journal, that the school had received no complaints and he didn’t think Pervy Drunken Dave’s reputation would suffer. Well, sure, Ted, but that’s because you’re hushing it up.

Dave’s reputation should suffer. Everyone should know what happened. Public shame is the only way to really punish these idiots who take pleasure from exploiting children. And I suspect Ted’s remark about “no complaints” is about to change.

10 Things My Principal Got Away With

About 25 or so years ago, I was working in a clothing store. One of my coworkers was a cute girl who would often tell me how much she hated her father. I would nod, agree that he sounded like a dick, and continue folding jeans while waiting for a chance to ask her out. And then, one day, her father came into the store, and I recoiled. It was my elementary school principal, the terror of my childhood, the most feared person in my small world. I hadn’t seen him since leaving that school in the fourth grade, but all those old feelings came roaring back.

He recognized me after a moment. I said something like “Good to see you again, Mr. Jones (not his real name).” He said “Go ahead and call me Dick (his real name).” I wanted to say “that suits you” but I didn’t, because he still scared me. You know how scary he was? He had ginger hair, thick black eyebrows and a white beard. That just ain’t right.

I was thinking about this again today because I read yet another news article about an educator who went too far. Dick played a big role in my childhood; thinking back, he might have been our gym teacher, too. Or maybe he taught French. I just remember that we spent time with him every day for years, no matter who our teacher was. I was kind of a rotten kid, but really, Dick went too far on a lot of occasions:

1. He used to slap me on the back of the head if he thought I wasn’t listening.
2. He had a bad habit of reaching into his plaid polyester pants and scratching his balls when nobody was looking. I notice this kind of stuff. That’s why I’m Weathereye.
3. He accused me of sneaking into the movie being shown in the gym, and hauled me out, so it was years before I got to see the end of The Shaggy D.A. Thinking back, I might have snuck in.
4. He once dragged me to the office by the ear — by the EAR — because I wouldn’t stop pretending to be a robot.
5. When I drew on the carpet with crayon in first grade, he made me try to lick it clean. I am not making that up. He was quite the asshole.
6. I was getting my Grade 2 ass kicked by three Grade 5 guys, and his solution was to put us all in boxing gloves and have us fight it out, three against one. I probably mouthed off, and I probably deserved it.
7. He had us fight it out, three against one, on the stage in the gym, in front of the whole school. They got to miss class to watch me defend myself against three bigger kids.
8. They kicked my ass and cleaned my clock, and he was laughing.
9. One day in Grade 4, I decided to sneak home at lunchtime because I didn’t like my lunch and wanted the leftover pizza I knew was in the fridge. Once I got there, I decided to just stay home. Dick came to my house. He came to my farkin’ house. I hid under the bed, and fell asleep, and my mother found me later. She was pretty mad that I ate the pizza.
10. I had a bad rash in an embarrassing place, and he made me drop my pants in the office before agreeing to let me go to the nurse. I should note that this was an open-concept early 70s school, and the office was in full view of the entire world. People still remember this.

Anyway, this was the 1970s. These assholes could get away with that. They can’t anymore. And while I sometimes bemoan the fact that kids today live without fear of their adults, Dick went too far. I think a lot of my issues can be traced back to that asshole.

Today’s Moron: The Parent Who Complained About To Kill A Mockingbird

On second thought, maybe I’m the moron. All these years, I thought consensus, or majority, was needed to effect change. It turns out I was wrong. All it takes is one complaint.

Like in this case: a parent complained to the principal of St. Edmund Campion Secondary School in Brampton, Ontario because students were reading To Kill A Mockingbird. This parent did not like the book’s use of the N-word, and raised a fuss. The principal, being a sensible, sound educator, responded like this:

• “Harper Lee’s classic novel of racial injustice and small-town mythology did more to ease America through the racially charged changes of the 1960s than any other work of fiction. As well, it stands as one of the finest pieces of literature ever put to paper, and continues to inspire successive generations to explore the foundations of their beliefs and morals. It led to one of the finest films ever made and now, a half-century after it was written, remains one of the most important works of all time.”

Wait, no, he didn’t. Principal Kevin McGuire promptly removed the book from the school’s curriculum, saying it would be replaced by a Canadian work. He didn’t say which one. Just that it would be Canadian. The area’s Catholic school board supports the decision, and the provincial education ministry says McGuire is well within his rights.

Look, I’m all for getting more Canadian fiction into schools. We have some brilliant writers, and we don’t know them as well as we should. And if that were really the reason for replacing To Kill A Mockingbird — among my favourite books and films, I should mention — then I would go along with it. I might not like it, but it’s McGuire’s choice.

But to give in to one parent? If I’d known it was that easy, I would have been complaining a long time ago:

1. I want to send my kids to school with peanut butter sandwiches. They love them, and if other kids are allergic, they should probably just not eat them. Or sit in a separate area.
2. If my kid jumps the farthest in the long jump on track and field day, give him the top prize. Don’t give every other kid the same ribbon because “they’re all winners.” Give the winner the prize. Everyone else lost. That’s life.
3. I would like those teenagers to pull up their stupid pants.

Do you think I should try any of these complaints? And if I did, do you think my kids’ school would listen? No. Because I’m one voice. The principal would laugh me out of the office, as well she should. So why did Kevin McGuire listen? Why did he give in?

Read the story here, then let me know what you think.

Oh, why is the parent the moron, and not the principal? Because the parent is clearly someone so politically correct that he or she wants to shield children from history, from important stories that can change lives. That’s no way to help kids learn about their world. Hide the truth from them, and it has a bigger effect when they discover it on their own. The principal, meanwhile, isn’t a moron. He’s just weak.

If you don’t know what To Kill A Mockingbird is … you should get right on it.

I’m Going To Sue My Kindergarten Teacher

First I have to find her, of course. I don’t really remember her name. It was Miss Up-something. Upshaw? Upgrove? I know she turned up at another school I went to later, and she was married and had a different last name. I don’t even remember what she looked like — this was 1972, and to little me, all adults looked tall and plaid.

But when I find her, I’m going to sue her.

See, I have not fulfilled my career potential. After 14 years of a Canadian public education and the ensuing post-secondary schooling I chose to pursue, I should be a career success at the top of his game. Instead, I am in the basement, surrounded by comic books and hamster food.

It’s all Miss Updale’s fault.

Well, maybe it isn’t. But I’m just following the lead set by Trina Thompson, of New York City, who is suing Monroe College in the Bronx because, three months after she graduated, she doesn’t have a job. The New York Post, which likes this kind of story as much as I do, will tell you about it here.

Trina is my new hero. All this time, I thought it was up to me to find work. I didn’t realize my schools were supposed to do that. So I contacted my college, and someone there said the current assistant director of employment resources is on vacation. I called my high schools (I went to a bunch) and there was no answer, because it’s August. So that got me thinking: Let’s take this back to the source.

I remember once I got caught drawing on the carpet with a black crayon. Miss Upford took me to the Bad Boy Corner and told me to think about what I had done. We had this conversation:

• Her: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
• Me: “A detective, like the Hardy Boys.”
• Her: “Well, that will never happen, because you are a Bad Boy!”

And look at me now.

I estimate that my career as a detective, had I started, say, at age 21, would have netted me a fair sum over the ensuing decades. Let’s call it 50 million dollars (because of all the lost treasure I would have located).

Mrs. Upyours, when I find you, you’re on the hook.

See, Trina? This is how it’s done. We went to school. We showed up every day, sort of! We paid our tuition, almost all the time! They owe us! Ignore this guy, and fight on!

When I’m done with Miss Upload, I’ll probably sue the makers of moon boots for my inability to get any action in high school.