When she comes to the club, step aside.

So last night the four of us went to a Japanese place for dinner. It was one of those places where you sit at a big table with a bunch of people you don't know and the chef cooks the food in front of you. We had never been to this particular restaurant, but Jason and I had went to one on our honeymoon and I had been to one a few (okay, like 10 or 11) years ago when in college (the first time), so I knew what to expect.

At our table were Ken and Barbie and their two children. They were slightly irritating in that they completely ignored their children the entire time (I talked to their son more than they did, and I'm not kidding), they were entirely too tan for it to be February, and the woman ordered by far the most expensive entree on the menu and then took exactly two bites and left the rest on her plate. But them? Yeah, whatever. They didn't really bother me.

The people at the table next to us? Yeah. They bothered me.

The next table seated four couples; none of them knew each other. They were all young couples and were being friendly with one another, asking, "Where are you from?" "What made you move here?" "Are you married?" "Do you have kids?" All of that was fine. They talked NASCAR for a while. They talked about some different football teams for a while. Whatever.

Then one of the women at the table, who was clearly drunk, began to talk about her job.

She's a first grade teacher.

Now, let me begin by saying that I have more respect for teachers than just about any profession. When I went back to school, I had every intention of majoring in Elementary Education, and I did for a while. I only changed my major because working for the government proved to have perks that working for a public school system did not (read: $$$). It was merely a situation of being in the right place at the right time. Were it not for the job I got in May 2005, I would certainly be teaching school right now. Well, not literally right now, as today is an in-service day. But yeah. In general.

Also, I think that teachers have the right to do whatever they want in their free time so long as it is not damaging to children (or illegal or whatever). If a teacher wants to go out and tie one on, it's no different to me than if an accountant wanted to go tie one on. Whatever. After you leave work, you've left work. I have no problem with that. If she was, you know getting drunk and flashing her boobs at kids, then yes, I'd have a problem with it. Otherwise, if she wants to drink, that's her business.

However.

She announced to the entire table (lo, the entire room because she was talking REALLY REALLY LOUDLY) that she was a first grade teacher. She then announced the school at which she teaches. She then proceeded to talk smack about:
1) The school
2) The principal
3) The "idiotic" parents
4) The other teachers
5) The students in her class, that she is currently teaching (particularly the non-white students)
6) A bunch of other crap, I tried to block her out

Not only that, every other word she said was the F word and I don't mean freaking. All four of the kids at our table got really wide eyes as she went on an on with F-This and F-That.

Clearly, she's miserable, she hates her job, and she does not want to be a teacher.

And that's primarily what I have a problem with. That and the huge headache she gave me because she wouldn't SHUT UP.

When I was a credit counselor I saw a lot of teachers. This makes me profoundly sad, as teachers are ridiculously underpaid. I would ask each and every one of them, "Do you like your job?"

Never, not one time in five years, did a teacher respond, "Yes! I love it!"

Every single one of them said they hated it. They didn't just say, "Oh, it's a job." Or, "It has good days and bad days." They said, "I HATE IT."

The children were in kindergarten when we lived in North Carolina. They went to a school that had 1200 students (grades kindergarten to fifth grade). Every day I would walk them into their classes. I passed the fourth grade hallway every day and every single day (even the very first day of school, and I'm not kidding) I heard one teacher screaming at the children in her class. Not raising her voice. SCREAMING. Clearly she was also miserable and hated her job.

I've had jobs I hated. Good Lord. I've had jobs I hated so much that I would literally pray to God that a drunk driver would hit me on the way to work so I could have a day off. I have sat in jobs thinking, "I have to get out of here". A huge part of why we moved away from North Carolina was so that I could get away from a job that was slowly crushing my very soul, and start over.

I know jobs are not easy to come by sometimes. I do understand that. But really, I wish that woman last night would go get another job. Anything, ANYTHING other than teaching children. Because she hates her job. She is miserable in her job. And I just have a hard time believing she is doing an effective job teaching these "f*cking" children she hates so much.