We three Sophomore English teachers had been collaborating all year to great success--our crowning moment was combining our three classes for a week of Poetry Idol. Anitra was Randy (Yo dog, you did your thing), Jessica was Paula (I didn't understand the poem, but I love your outfit), and I was Simon. Picture it: the students read their poems, they voted, they had a lot of fun, and even if they learned nothing, they at least pretended to for our sakes. It was such a rousing success that my co-hosts insisted that we combine classes one last time at the end of the year. No problem. They wanted to show The Dead Poet's Society. Problem.

I hate teacher movies. Stand by Me, Dangerous Minds, Mr. Holland's Opus, blech. It's not that they are bad. Some of them are no doubt watchable, even well-filmed. I don't watch them anymore, though. If a teacher movie came out that had all the critics hailing it as the best movie of the century and they were giving free blow-jobs at the theater, I would still not go. I hate teacher movies.

They remind me of those insidious billboards put up by the Foundation for Better Living or whatever it's called. You know, the one with a picture of Gandhi or Mother Teresa or Superman and a single word, "dedication" or "compassion" or "omnipotence", and the tagline "pass it on", by which they mean, "Why aren't you this good?" All these bastards do is make you feel guilty because, even though you are thirty-two, you have never climbed Mount Everest with no arms, and you have never given your kidneys to feed the homeless, and you are rather pathetic indeed. Teacher movies make me feel exactly the same way. "Look," they seem to say, "This teacher turned hardened criminals into Supreme Court Justices, and she had no head. Why can't you do that?"

But they were insistent, so I caved. We opened up the folding wall between Jessica's room and Anitra's and corralled all three classes in there. Surprisingly, the movie wasn't so bad. In fact, Robin Williams in the movie was a lot like me: shameless, dedicated, nothing too crazy. I imagined his students telling him what a student once told me: "Mister Payne, I hate English, but I always come to your class just to see what crazy shit you'll do next." When he got fired, that too was like me. My students didn't know it at the time, but my contract had not been renewed for the following school year. I told the students that I was not coming back the following year, but I would not tell them why. I knew that it would just reinforce their belief that the system doesn't give a fuck about them.

So Robin Williams got fired, and all of the students got up on their desks and clapped, O Captain my Captain, sappy ending music, turn the lights back on. I then gave them their last writing assignment of the year. I was leaving, yes, and I was now counting on them to help me out. "Dear Mr. Payne," it was to begin. "In your new school . . ." and the rest was up to them. Some of my favorites (unedited):

I hope you love your students as you kept us to your heart.

* * *

Look out for gang bangers and give them NO EYE CONTACT!

* * *

Don't kill peoples grades!

* * *

don't change a thing about yourself. Your a good teacher, just how you taught me not to think about what other people say.

* * *

you should bring to them you fin and sometimes crule methods of teaching.

P.S. keep it gangsta

* * *

You have not only been the coolest teacher ever, but a friend. I didn't like how you would kill it with commas on a test.

* * *

you are the greatest teacher I have ever met. When my day is going bad you just brighten it up with your jokes and your sense of humor. But sometimes you be killing it with the work only sometimes tho.

* * *

I think that even though you got on my nerves sometime you have been the best teacher I had my whole life.

* * *

your words have made me view life differently.

* * *

your humor is what changes this experience from "Just another English class," to wow!

* * *

I seriously thought your jokes are lame, but you came out to be a pretty cool guy.

* * *

Mr. Payne don't change a bit. You did just fine this whole year. Don't drink and drive. J/K

* * *

P.S. Definition of Mr. Payne: weird, funny, loud, clumsy, crazy, cool, tight, ninja.

As I was reading through these, I became visibly moved, and began to weep--even as I write this, I start to cry, and the faces appear before me. I see Lian step onto his chair and stand on his desk. The rest follow suit. They begin the slow clap that I had thought only happened in movies. They chant, "O captain, my captain," with the most ridiculous shit-eating grins on their faces. Quickly we all laughed, and everybody got off of their desks, but I would like to think their sentiment was in earnest. Maybe there's something to those terrible movies after all.