How to piss off Ms Anonymous

I'm not one of those dickhead teachers that goes around wearing a t-shirt or drinking from a mug that says
"I touch the future...I teach"
because lets face it that is both incredibly wankerish and highly illegal. I do however think that most days of the week I am actually doing my bestest to make someone's life better. Even if I all do is make a kid feel happy or ok or safe for the 6 or so hours they are with me each day, then as far as I'm concerned I'm doing a fuckload better than some of their parents. Our kids don't come from the most, ah...shall we say, happy home lives. They put up with shit that would make me curl up in the foetal position and wail myself to sleep each night, make me want to sleep with a knife under my pillow, and generally make me incapable of functioning, yet they do it all with a smile on their face and relatively few aggressive attacks on things smaller than themselves. I work damn hard at making their lives at school as fun, stress free, successful, empowering, enjoyable, friendly and safe as I can without pissing off my boss, the classes next door or breaking any rules.

Before you get the wrong idea, I am not trying to make you think I'm a saint, pure of heart, or mother Theresa-esque. I growl at them, I keep them in at lunch time when they need it, I remove them from the room when they need it, I refuse to talk to them if they're being shit heads and often do all of these things until they cry.

Now. The point of my story. The other day, I was walking through a shopping centre when I was accosted by a fool from one of those bloody charities trying so save the fucking universe. They were operating under their usual MO. Parked in the middle of nowhere so that anyone who wanted to go somewhere had to go by them and getting in peoples faces with their shit. I don't really like to be openly rude and I don't particularly get off on confrontation, so my usual tactic is to either change where I'm going completely to avoid them or just keep my head down looking through my bag for something that I just can't locate.

Well today this arse clown was just not going to let me get by. I did the whole "No thanks, no, no, NO thanks, have a nice day though, thanks but I'm all good, thanks, have a good day," and he just kept following me. Just as I thought I had escaped his clutches he yells after me, "It's because of people like you that these children are dying!".

Well. Holy. Mother. Fucker. He did NOT just go there! Did he go there? Fuckin A.

I interrupt this impossibly interesting story for a little side note. My other half believes I have rage issues. He also believes that we are all born with the same amount of anger but because I'm kinda on the smaller side of average he theorises that my anger is more concentrated than others. He also believes I have a rather short fuse. All hearsay.

This tool with the laminated name tag pissed me off more than I thought a tool with a laminated name tag ever could. I spun so hard and fast that he stepped back and I can't be certain but I'm pretty sure his life may have flashed before his eyes.

"Because of me? These kids are dying because of me?! What do YOU do to help these kids? Stand in shopping malls abusing people who won't give you forty fucking bucks? Do YOU sponsor any of these kids? What about those kids outside there! The ones sitting outside the pub waiting for their pissed fucking parents to take them home and beat the shit out of them for the fucking fun of it?! What about the girls you see walking around here during the day when they should be at school? The girls whose parents let strangers have sex with their daughters so they can buy drugs with the money?! What about the 12 year old that tried to beat ME up so he wouldn't have to come to school and see the counsellor who makes him talk about things he pretends didn't happen? What about the 5 year old I had to pick up off the toilet floor because he had passed out from the ALCOHOL he had been fed to amuse his parents and their friends? Are you helping him? And the kids that broke into YOUR house so they could find money to buy food for their brothers and sisters? Or the girl that bashed your girlfriend and robbed her for her money so she wouldn't be raped tonight? Are you helping them? OUR kids, right here, right now! THEY ARE DYING EVERY DAY YOU MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD! So you can fuck off with fucking suit and pointy leather shoes and your god damn $50 000 car sitting in the car park and your fucking abuse!"

At least that's what I wanted to say. But those kids and more were walking by, around, drinking, eating, hanging out with their families and friends. Their families and friends who think I don't know those things about them. Who trust me, who are grateful for me being in their lives, even if they show me by grunting at me when I say hello instead of pretending I don't exist, or yell at me after listening to what I have to say because hey, at least they listened in the first place. I wasn't about to humiliate these people any more by airing their dirty laundry to this stupid little weed who would have forgotten it all by first drinks at the pub that night.

Instead all I managed was to storm back, poke the little bastard in the chest and growl "Fuck YOU" at him.