In my last blog, I ranted about the misconceptions of the Common Core State Standards. This week I’m going back to what I know best; writing about farts. My life’s ambition was not to go forth and share my experience and knowledge about farts. It just sort of happened. Unfortunately.
My exposure to professional grade farts started in my early adulthood. As a young man right out of high school, I thought I’d give college a try. Well, turns out I couldn’t tell the difference between being a responsible drinker or being the dude that Aerosmith kicked out of the band because he drank too much. So I did what most mature minded people do: I joined the US Navy Submarine Force. Without going into every detail, there was a large volume of farting caused by colossal quantities of beer and indigestible fast food. I was always amazed at the pride some would have of their expelled sewer bouquet. Some would have the same look of pride on their face as a first-time father sharing a picture of his newborn. They would then nod their head, poke me in the chest, and boast, ”That’s how you do it!” I wanted to point out that I already knew how to fart, but I really didn’t. Not like that. So I hung my head and fought through the next 6 years.
Now, some odd years later, I’m an elementary teacher. And once again I am faced with a room full of people who take no shame in sounding their ass trumpets. Not just the small sounds that you would expect coming out of small children. Some of these sounds are more like that of a logging truck just entering a town, turning on his compression break. I have to imagine the air pressure inside these kids are more than inside the tire of a tractor. And it doesn’t matter what they are ingesting. It’s not like they’re eating undercooked beans and then suffer the effects. They can walk up to the drinking fountain, take a drink, and then produce pure evil out of their ass.
|Maybe a science fair project?|
After one of these treasures is released, the presenter revels in the laugher of the entire class. My only recourse is to wait for the laughter to die down. After the laughter comes the smell, which invokes the same response from the class. “Oh my god! The smell!!” they laugh. Yes, it is warm air over a turd. It makes sense that it will smell bad. I am still amazed at the lingering power some of the kids have.
It is hard to imagine that in the interior of those cute little faces brews a stench strong enough to drive demons out of the room. I’m lucky enough to be able to keep my door to the hallway open and my windows open to create a draft. This will aid in clearing the room temporarily. Some teachers are forced to keep their doors closed because of noise or other gas bags in the hallways that may come into their rooms and fart. There are those who roam the halls, looking for open classrooms to deposit their fart. Thanks Common Core!
So, what do I do about it? Nothing I guess. I just have to deal with it the best way I can and always position myself near a window. And always remind myself to be thankful I am not the one who has to wash their underwear. The Hulk on their Underoos may have changed colors. And he's still pissed.