Post by Cliff of Doom on Sept 3, 2016 1:54:49 GMT -5
I won.
But I don’t feel like I won. I feel like I’ve just played the World Cup equivalent of Dodgeball, except instead of getting hit with soft, foam balls, I got hit with clotheslines, punches, and face busters. It’s been a few days since Slam and I’m laid up on the couch for the second day in a row, groaning in pain when I move and when I lay still. I have a DVD of season two of The Sopranos playing on TV. I call out to my wife, who’s in our bedroom folding laundry.
Cliff: Honey!
Tina walks in, irritated.
Tina: Yeah?
Cliff: Can you get me a glass of water, please?
She rolls her eyes, goes to the kitchen, and comes back with my water.
Cliff: Can you give me more ibuprofen, too?
She goes to the bathroom and comes back, holding the bottle of pills out.
Cliff: Can you open it for me?
Tina: No! Open it yourself!
She drops the bottle on the carpet and goes back to the bedroom.
Cliff: Hey!
I reach to the floor to grab the pills but the pain in my neck flares up.
Cliff: Ah! God damn it! Tina, what the hell?!
She storms back in.
Tina: This is the second day now that you’ve been laid up on the couch. You were never like this after a LIWA show.
Cliff: Babe, the competition is much tougher in the WCF. These aren’t guys that are training to become wrestlers. These guys ARE wrestlers. Believe me, there’s a big difference. I can feel it ringing in my head.
Tina: Well, is this the way it’s going to be the whole time? I mean, you can recuperate now, but what about next week when school starts. You can’t just take off because you’re in pain.
Cliff: Babe, I promise you it won’t be like this all the time. It was my first match. My body will get used to the competition and I’ll be a lot more prepared to go compete at the WCF level. Anthony warned me not to get cocky and I didn’t listen. Every time I try to move, I wish I had.
I try to reach for the pills again, slower this time so I won’t hurt myself. It's taking an agonizingly long time.
Tina: Jesus, lay back down.
She grabs the bottle, opens it, and hands two pills to me.
Cliff: Thank you.
Tina: Why would you want to do something that’s going to hurt you all the time. I don’t get it.
She walks back into the bedroom. Whatever. She doesn’t have to get it, only me.
I fall asleep a little while later and take a one hour nap. When I wake up, the TV and lights are off.
Cliff: Tina?!
I get up slowly. My body is feeling a bit better but I walk like I’m dragging an anchor. I find a note on the kitchen table. She went to the grocery store. I walk into the office and sit at the computer.
I wonder who I’m facing this Sunday. I hope it’s not another multi-man match. I don’t know if my body can handle another one of those.
I log on to the WCF website and find the page for Slam. I find my name. Fuck. A five-way. Well, at least there’s one less guy. I read the names of my opponents. Alex Winterz, Joe Smarts, Jaice Wilds, and Mark Gallagher.
Mark Gallagher again? At least I’m already familiar with him. Yeah, he gave me a pretty fierce clothesline, but other than that, he didn’t seem like he was in the match all that much once he got hit with an inverted DDT by Chaos. I mean, after I super kicked St. Matthews while he was in Gallagher’s rear naked choke, Gallagher just stood there looking at me. He was an easier target than Abe Lincoln. I kicked his head off and sent the rest of him spilling to the outside.
You know, speaking of him looking at me, I was kind of unsettled in the half-second before I knocked his block off. He’s just got these crazy fucking eyes to go along with the creepy smile of his and that horrible cackle of a laugh. I guess if I had no money, saw friends die in battle, and then got sent to prison for beating a friend who put a knife in my back, I’d be a little off, too.
Still, the dude’s got to focus. He hasn’t won a match yet and he’s refused all help from anyone. Maybe he needs it. If he wants any success, he’s got to get his head right. Maybe he should go see Dr. Phil.
I search on YouTube to study the other guys. I find Jaice Wilds first. He and I match up pretty evenly. He does a springboard back elbow, I do a handspring back elbow. He does a super kick, and I do a super kick. He knows how to fly, I know how to fly. It seems like a pretty even match up. I guess what I have going for me is that he’s from Brazil. Fuck Brazil. America went into his country and won one-hundred twenty-one medals in the Olympics. Brazil won nineteen. Americans are superior athletes, and seeing as I’m American, I should be able to beat him.
Alright, I’m being an asshole. There are many great Brazilian athletes. Pele is one of the greatest soccer players of all time. I bet if he super kicked me in the face, my head would end up ten rows back. But that’s soccer, and soccer sucks. I would like to see him try the real football. You know, the one we play in America. I’d love to see Pele try to get past the Denver Broncos defense.
Anderson Silva’s from Brazil, and he holds the record for the longest title reign in UFC history. Which was ended by Chris Weidman- an American. And a Long Islander. So yeah, fuck Anderson Silva, too.
And does Jaice Wilds know how to spell? Someone should tell him that extreme begins with the letter “E.”
Man, I’m being a real dick. No wonder the rest of the world hates America.
Alright, alright, one more dig.
Jaice Wilds looks like Lucious Starr and Lucious Starr is fucking ugly.
Okay, now I’m done. In all seriousness, Jaice Wilds looks like a fierce competitor. He’s the guy I’ve got to look out for in this match, watch my back the entire time. He looks like he could attack from the air or the ground. I can’t underestimate him like I underestimated my opponents last week.
Let me take a look at Alex Winterz. I find a video uploaded by Suicidal Dragon called “Alex Winterz- Ten Best Moves.” I click on it. Alright, pretty good move set. He looks capable. T-Bone Suplex into the turnbuckles. He super kicks, too...and sentons like me. And finally, the #1 move.
What? What the fuck is his finisher called?! The ELBOW of Doom?! That’s gimmick infringement! There is only one “Of Doom” and that’s CLIFF of Doom! What the fuck?! I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. The Elbow of Doom is one move. Cliff of Doom has tons of moves, and I’ll make sure he gets every one of them, including the only move WORTH having the word “Doom” in it- the Doomstone! That’ll hurt his head more than any Roaring Elbow could ever hurt anyone!
Alright, alright, Cliff. Calm down. Save your anger for the match. Besides, he’s never heard of you, so he couldn’t have stolen your name for his move.
God, I hate this desk chair. It always hurts my back, and it hurts now more than usual. I’ve got to move around more. Or maybe take a shower. Jesus, I smell like an anchovy’s cunt.
Even though the kids don’t start school until next week, I have to go in for Staff Orientation Day. It’s not really a hardship. Believe me, I’m not complaining. I just had ten weeks off from teaching. It’s just that there are usually a bunch of bullshit meetings or workshops or motivational speakers that fill up the day when I’d rather be setting up my classroom or doing work to get ready for the first day of school. But whatever, at least they’re paying me to be here.
I skipped the welcome back breakfast. I usually hate going to that every year. All the teachers in the district go there, not just from my building. I know some of them from my time as a substitute, but you know what it’s like when you see somebody you haven’t seen in a long time but you don’t really know them that well? The conversation is always awkward.
“Hey, how are you.”
“Good, you?
“I’m good.”
You never even remember the other person’s name. When the pleasantries are over, you just fucking stand there until one of you says “Okay, well good to see you then.” And I’m usually not the one to say it because I’m standing there thinking, should I say something else? I am the one who makes it awkward.
I don’t even want to talk to people from my own building.
“Hey, how was your summer?”
“Oh, it was great. Yours?”
“Great, thanks.”
And then the awkwardness. Fuck this breakfast. Except for the coffee. I do pour myself a free cup of coffee and then walk out.
I go to my classroom and pull out the stuff to hang up on my bulletin boards. I could make my bulletin boards with my eyes closed, except for hanging up the paper for the background. I need Tina’s help for that. She comes down to my room and we get the paper up. After that, I attach the borders. When I’m done, I look at the clock. Fuck. I don’t have time to put anything else up. I’ve got a meeting. I’m going to have to finish it later.
I don’t actually mind going to this particular meeting. It’s our beginning of the year faculty meeting, and this year, we have a new principal, Dr. Coleman. We get a new principal in our building on average every two years. Our building is not easy to run. The kids are difficult. Half of our student body is minority and from the ghetto that’s north of the train tracks that run through our district. Many of them don’t have good home lives. Lots of single moms. Lots of brothers in jail. Lots of drugs and gangs. Not everyone can handle it. The last guy left because he couldn’t handle the job. He had been an elementary school and tried to run our school the same way. It wasn’t a good fit. This new guy has worked in a middle school before but I heard that in his past buildings he’s not been real good with discipline. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean, maybe he’s learned from his past mistakes. It’s day one. We’ve got to give the guy a chance.
I enter the auditorium. Tina and I sit next to each other. The meeting begins.
Wow, he’s pretty funny. He’s a much better speaker than the last principal. You can tell he’s nervous, but again, it’s day one.
Oh, shit. Now he’s talking about his educational philosophy.
Dr. Coleman: I believe in the three “A’s,” attitude, achievement, and attendance.
Great. Another fucking slogan. Why do these principals always think that a slogan will fix the problems in our school? The guy before him said “Higher expectations equal higher outcomes.” The guy before him said “Results first, children always.” What the fuck does that even mean?
Now he’s saying that he wants to make the school better by listening to the staff and making decisions based off of their counsel. Yeah, he wants to use our ideas so that he can shift the blame to us when he fucks up.
God damn, this guy had me there for a second. I’m so dumb. Why do I always think the new principals will be any different than the old principals? I’m so god damned naïve. It’s been this way in the eight years I’ve been here and it’ll be that way for the next twenty four years of my career. I’ll just ride this guy out like I rode the old ones out and like I’ll ride the next ones out. Have fun, Dr. Coleman. In six months, you’ll be updating your résumé and asking around about principal vacancies in surrounding districts.
I mentally check out and start thinking about the names of my opponents.
Isn’t Alex Winterz the name of the guy who played Bill in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure? Or maybe he was Ted. No, that was the asshole in the bus movie. Keanu. Wasn’t there a Key & Peele movie called Keanu? God, they are not funny.
Tina: Are you paying attention?
No, it’s Alex Winter- no “Z” at the end. Whatever happened to him? Did he star in anything else? I guess Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey counts, but that movie’s not as good. Yeah, I can’t think of anything else he did. Which is what’s going to happen to Alex WinterZ after this Sunday. That name stealing jerk is going to disappear and be as irrelevant as Bill S. Preston, Esq. He thinks he’s going to hit the Elbow of Doom? No, HE’s going to be doomed!
There I go again, getting angry about the stupid fucking name. I can’t help it. Besides, no matter how many moves he has, I’m not intimidated. I believe in myself and I know that the Elbow of Doom won’t be witnessed by the fans in Wheeling. If Alex Winterz wants to “gain some gold,” then he’s going to have to go through me- but he’s not going to make it very far.
Tina nudges me. I pick my head back up and look at the principal, but I’m still not listening.
Joe Smarts. What kind of name is that? It sounds like the name of a 1930s gangster. “Meh, Joe Smarts here, meh! You can’t get me coppa, meh!” Oh, wait, he’s Australian. What would that sound like? “Joe Smarts. Dingo ate ya baby!”
Oh, fuck. I made myself laugh out loud- and Dr. Coleman is right in front of me. He’s stopped talking and just staring straight at me. All the other teachers are staring at me, too. Great. Just fucking great. I look at Tina. She’s looking away, shaking her head.
Dr. Coleman: Is everything alright, Mr…
I don't want to say my name, but I know that the longer I wait, the angrier he is going to get.
Cliff: Mc...Manus. Cliff McManus.
Dr. Coleman: McManus. McManus. McManus
He repeats it quietly to himself a bunch of times like he’s making a mental note. Great. Day one and I’m on the new principal’s shit list. Fuck me.
Tina leans over to me and whispers.
Tina: Of all the times to make yourself laugh.
I look at her sideways as if to say “Back off.”
Fucking Joe Smarts. I blame him. If he didn’t have a funny name, I wouldn’t have laughed. Brainiac. I hate brainiacs, now especially that I’m a teacher. They always want to answer every question and get angry when you don’t call on them, like they were the only ones in the class. Sometimes they just say shit that has nothing to do with the class discussion. They just want to show how smart they are. When they do say something relevant, they go on for what seems like an hour as if they were human encyclopedias. Why are they like that?
It’s because they’re insecure. They have invested so much into trying to be smart that they think that if they don’t answer every single question or dominate every discussion that people will think they’re dumb. This is the kind of person that Joe Smarts is, I bet. He’s got to be smarter than everybody else and try to make everyone else around him feel dumb. I feel bad that that’s how he wants to live his life. I bet he spent his whole childhood studying and not making any friends. Or having any girlfriends. Poor kid. His life is only going to get worse when I pin him this Sunday. It won’t be my fault. He’s his own worst enemy. I mean, he’s going to be so concerned with not looking dumb that his concentration won’t be on the match. That’ll make it a lot easier to hit him with the Doomstone. Poor little shit.
Thank God, the meeting is over. I walk to the front of the auditorium where a pile of new grade books sit on the stage. I go up to grab one of the books. I look to the side and see Dr. Coleman glaring at me. He walks over. Fuck. Is he going to embarrass me in front of everybody?
He pats me on the back.
Dr. Coleman: I’ll be real interested to see you in the classroom this year, Mr. McManus.
I try to act cool.
Cliff: Um, yeah, anytime you want to come in.
Dr. Coleman: Oh, trust me, I know.
He smiles mischievously and goes to talk to another teacher.
Tina smacks me on the shoulder lightly.
Tina: Why can’t you ever just pay attention?
I could lie, but I decide to tell the embarrassing truth.
Cliff: I was thinking about my match this Sunday.
I admitted it like I was telling my dad that I had put a hole in the dining room wall- meekly.
Tina: Oh, God. Maybe thinking about school when you’re in school might help. You better be ready every day for Dr. Coleman to pop in at any time to watch you teach. You better not slack off, unless you want to live in my parents' basement the rest of your life, that is.
She walks away. Fuck me. I just want to go to my classroom, curl up in a ball, and die.
But first I have to finish my bulletin boards.
Like I said, I can finish these things with my eyes closed.
September is the exploration bulletin board.
October is the thirteen colonies.
November- American Revolution
December to January- the Constitution
Februar....
You get it.
I get everything hung up. Next, what am I teaching the first week? Well, the first day is always about the rules. The election is coming up, so I’ll spend a few days talking about that. Then, I have to spend a day on September 11. After that, what’s next.
I look through my plan book from the year before.
Let’s see here. Oh, right, causes of exploration first, followed by Columbus, European countries compete to create empires in North America, slavery and the Middle Passage. Alright, that’s about a week and a half. I’ve got that all planned out.
Do I need to make any new materials? I look through my binder. Nope, everything I’ve used the last few years looks good. I used to make new stuff all the time, but once I got the hang of it, it wasn’t necessary to do that anymore. Great. Man, this shit gets easier every year.
Every year. Every year. For the next twenty-four years.
I just contemplate that amount of time for a few seconds.
Can I keep doing the same thing over and over again until I retire? Every year, the bulletin boards look the same. Every year, I teach the same lessons. Every few years, I get the same type of principal. I come into work every day at the same time, take the same commute, see the same people, have the same schedule, see the same type of kids and talk to the same type of parents, smell the same smells from the cafeteria, teach in the same classroom, walk through the same hallways, wear the same type of clothes, feel the same types of stresses, everything is just same, same, same.
And it’ll all be the same if I haven’t already won the WCF World Championship by this time next year. By this time next year, I could be in this room, doing the exact same thing that I’m doing right now. And my wrestling career, my DREAM CAREER could be over. Why did I make that deal with Tina? Why did I give myself such a high goal?
I didn’t want this! I didn’t want to become a teacher. Yeah, I like it, but I don’t LOVE it. I’m good at it, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.
Why did I choose this career path?
I think about the day my dad asked me what I wanted to major in when I went to college. One thing you have to understand was that I was going to college. Even if I hadn’t forgotten my dream to become a wrestler, I was going to college. It wasn’t a choice in my parents’ house. My dad didn’t go and he always regretted it. He wasn’t going to let me do the same.
The question came out of nowhere, really. We were at a family party and my dad just decided to bring it up.
Dad: What are you going to major in?
Cliff: History.
That was an easy answer. I always liked history, always did well in it. That was a no-brainer.
Dad: And what are you going to do with that degree?
That question was a little bit harder. I hadn’t thought about that yet. I just blurted out the first thing I could think of.
Cliff: Become a teacher.
My mom was a teacher. My aunt was a teacher. It made sense that I should become a teacher, too, right?
Dad: And why do you want to do that?
Fuck, Dad, I thought to myself. What was with the twenty questions? I just picked the most generic answer I could think of.
Cliff: Because I want to work with kids.
He looked at me like he didn’t buy my answer. He’s a cynical guy, but he stopped interrogating me after that.
So, to answer my own question, I chose this career path because I couldn’t think of anything else to say when pressed about what I wanted to do with my life. It never crossed my mind before college that I could change my mind or that I could be undecided when I first started out. I even majored in history for my graduate degree. I boxed myself in pretty badly.
But that was the past. Believe me, I spent a lot of time worrying about the decisions in my past, regretting a lot of things. I’m trying to fix the mistakes of my past now. If I can do that, it could mean a lot for me. If I can win the World Championship, I could make a lot of money- enough money to get out of this job and enough money to do everything I want for Tina, including a new house.
And I can be happy.
Most importantly, I can be happy.
I can’t take these four guys lightly on Sunday. Gallagher’s got the craziness, Wilds and Winterz have the versatility, and Smarts has the ...smarts.
I have to win. I have to keep winning. If I don’t, I’ll never get a title shot. I could try to win War, but that’s the ultimate multi-man match. No, I’ve got to win every match I’m in. It’s either that or by August 28, 2017, I’m out.
I have to get to the gym. I have to get to LIWA and use their ring to train. There’s no time to waste. I’ve got to leave now. School doesn’t start for another five days. I’ll worry about it when the kids come in for their first day.
I grab my school bag and walk out of the classroom.
Time to go to work, Cliff.
Time to make up for lost time.
Time to erase all of my past mistakes.
Time to do something different.
But I don’t feel like I won. I feel like I’ve just played the World Cup equivalent of Dodgeball, except instead of getting hit with soft, foam balls, I got hit with clotheslines, punches, and face busters. It’s been a few days since Slam and I’m laid up on the couch for the second day in a row, groaning in pain when I move and when I lay still. I have a DVD of season two of The Sopranos playing on TV. I call out to my wife, who’s in our bedroom folding laundry.
Cliff: Honey!
Tina walks in, irritated.
Tina: Yeah?
Cliff: Can you get me a glass of water, please?
She rolls her eyes, goes to the kitchen, and comes back with my water.
Cliff: Can you give me more ibuprofen, too?
She goes to the bathroom and comes back, holding the bottle of pills out.
Cliff: Can you open it for me?
Tina: No! Open it yourself!
She drops the bottle on the carpet and goes back to the bedroom.
Cliff: Hey!
I reach to the floor to grab the pills but the pain in my neck flares up.
Cliff: Ah! God damn it! Tina, what the hell?!
She storms back in.
Tina: This is the second day now that you’ve been laid up on the couch. You were never like this after a LIWA show.
Cliff: Babe, the competition is much tougher in the WCF. These aren’t guys that are training to become wrestlers. These guys ARE wrestlers. Believe me, there’s a big difference. I can feel it ringing in my head.
Tina: Well, is this the way it’s going to be the whole time? I mean, you can recuperate now, but what about next week when school starts. You can’t just take off because you’re in pain.
Cliff: Babe, I promise you it won’t be like this all the time. It was my first match. My body will get used to the competition and I’ll be a lot more prepared to go compete at the WCF level. Anthony warned me not to get cocky and I didn’t listen. Every time I try to move, I wish I had.
I try to reach for the pills again, slower this time so I won’t hurt myself. It's taking an agonizingly long time.
Tina: Jesus, lay back down.
She grabs the bottle, opens it, and hands two pills to me.
Cliff: Thank you.
Tina: Why would you want to do something that’s going to hurt you all the time. I don’t get it.
She walks back into the bedroom. Whatever. She doesn’t have to get it, only me.
I fall asleep a little while later and take a one hour nap. When I wake up, the TV and lights are off.
Cliff: Tina?!
I get up slowly. My body is feeling a bit better but I walk like I’m dragging an anchor. I find a note on the kitchen table. She went to the grocery store. I walk into the office and sit at the computer.
I wonder who I’m facing this Sunday. I hope it’s not another multi-man match. I don’t know if my body can handle another one of those.
I log on to the WCF website and find the page for Slam. I find my name. Fuck. A five-way. Well, at least there’s one less guy. I read the names of my opponents. Alex Winterz, Joe Smarts, Jaice Wilds, and Mark Gallagher.
Mark Gallagher again? At least I’m already familiar with him. Yeah, he gave me a pretty fierce clothesline, but other than that, he didn’t seem like he was in the match all that much once he got hit with an inverted DDT by Chaos. I mean, after I super kicked St. Matthews while he was in Gallagher’s rear naked choke, Gallagher just stood there looking at me. He was an easier target than Abe Lincoln. I kicked his head off and sent the rest of him spilling to the outside.
You know, speaking of him looking at me, I was kind of unsettled in the half-second before I knocked his block off. He’s just got these crazy fucking eyes to go along with the creepy smile of his and that horrible cackle of a laugh. I guess if I had no money, saw friends die in battle, and then got sent to prison for beating a friend who put a knife in my back, I’d be a little off, too.
Still, the dude’s got to focus. He hasn’t won a match yet and he’s refused all help from anyone. Maybe he needs it. If he wants any success, he’s got to get his head right. Maybe he should go see Dr. Phil.
I search on YouTube to study the other guys. I find Jaice Wilds first. He and I match up pretty evenly. He does a springboard back elbow, I do a handspring back elbow. He does a super kick, and I do a super kick. He knows how to fly, I know how to fly. It seems like a pretty even match up. I guess what I have going for me is that he’s from Brazil. Fuck Brazil. America went into his country and won one-hundred twenty-one medals in the Olympics. Brazil won nineteen. Americans are superior athletes, and seeing as I’m American, I should be able to beat him.
Alright, I’m being an asshole. There are many great Brazilian athletes. Pele is one of the greatest soccer players of all time. I bet if he super kicked me in the face, my head would end up ten rows back. But that’s soccer, and soccer sucks. I would like to see him try the real football. You know, the one we play in America. I’d love to see Pele try to get past the Denver Broncos defense.
Anderson Silva’s from Brazil, and he holds the record for the longest title reign in UFC history. Which was ended by Chris Weidman- an American. And a Long Islander. So yeah, fuck Anderson Silva, too.
And does Jaice Wilds know how to spell? Someone should tell him that extreme begins with the letter “E.”
Man, I’m being a real dick. No wonder the rest of the world hates America.
Alright, alright, one more dig.
Jaice Wilds looks like Lucious Starr and Lucious Starr is fucking ugly.
Okay, now I’m done. In all seriousness, Jaice Wilds looks like a fierce competitor. He’s the guy I’ve got to look out for in this match, watch my back the entire time. He looks like he could attack from the air or the ground. I can’t underestimate him like I underestimated my opponents last week.
Let me take a look at Alex Winterz. I find a video uploaded by Suicidal Dragon called “Alex Winterz- Ten Best Moves.” I click on it. Alright, pretty good move set. He looks capable. T-Bone Suplex into the turnbuckles. He super kicks, too...and sentons like me. And finally, the #1 move.
What? What the fuck is his finisher called?! The ELBOW of Doom?! That’s gimmick infringement! There is only one “Of Doom” and that’s CLIFF of Doom! What the fuck?! I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. The Elbow of Doom is one move. Cliff of Doom has tons of moves, and I’ll make sure he gets every one of them, including the only move WORTH having the word “Doom” in it- the Doomstone! That’ll hurt his head more than any Roaring Elbow could ever hurt anyone!
Alright, alright, Cliff. Calm down. Save your anger for the match. Besides, he’s never heard of you, so he couldn’t have stolen your name for his move.
God, I hate this desk chair. It always hurts my back, and it hurts now more than usual. I’ve got to move around more. Or maybe take a shower. Jesus, I smell like an anchovy’s cunt.
The Next Day
Even though the kids don’t start school until next week, I have to go in for Staff Orientation Day. It’s not really a hardship. Believe me, I’m not complaining. I just had ten weeks off from teaching. It’s just that there are usually a bunch of bullshit meetings or workshops or motivational speakers that fill up the day when I’d rather be setting up my classroom or doing work to get ready for the first day of school. But whatever, at least they’re paying me to be here.
I skipped the welcome back breakfast. I usually hate going to that every year. All the teachers in the district go there, not just from my building. I know some of them from my time as a substitute, but you know what it’s like when you see somebody you haven’t seen in a long time but you don’t really know them that well? The conversation is always awkward.
“Hey, how are you.”
“Good, you?
“I’m good.”
You never even remember the other person’s name. When the pleasantries are over, you just fucking stand there until one of you says “Okay, well good to see you then.” And I’m usually not the one to say it because I’m standing there thinking, should I say something else? I am the one who makes it awkward.
I don’t even want to talk to people from my own building.
“Hey, how was your summer?”
“Oh, it was great. Yours?”
“Great, thanks.”
And then the awkwardness. Fuck this breakfast. Except for the coffee. I do pour myself a free cup of coffee and then walk out.
I go to my classroom and pull out the stuff to hang up on my bulletin boards. I could make my bulletin boards with my eyes closed, except for hanging up the paper for the background. I need Tina’s help for that. She comes down to my room and we get the paper up. After that, I attach the borders. When I’m done, I look at the clock. Fuck. I don’t have time to put anything else up. I’ve got a meeting. I’m going to have to finish it later.
I don’t actually mind going to this particular meeting. It’s our beginning of the year faculty meeting, and this year, we have a new principal, Dr. Coleman. We get a new principal in our building on average every two years. Our building is not easy to run. The kids are difficult. Half of our student body is minority and from the ghetto that’s north of the train tracks that run through our district. Many of them don’t have good home lives. Lots of single moms. Lots of brothers in jail. Lots of drugs and gangs. Not everyone can handle it. The last guy left because he couldn’t handle the job. He had been an elementary school and tried to run our school the same way. It wasn’t a good fit. This new guy has worked in a middle school before but I heard that in his past buildings he’s not been real good with discipline. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean, maybe he’s learned from his past mistakes. It’s day one. We’ve got to give the guy a chance.
I enter the auditorium. Tina and I sit next to each other. The meeting begins.
Wow, he’s pretty funny. He’s a much better speaker than the last principal. You can tell he’s nervous, but again, it’s day one.
Oh, shit. Now he’s talking about his educational philosophy.
Dr. Coleman: I believe in the three “A’s,” attitude, achievement, and attendance.
Great. Another fucking slogan. Why do these principals always think that a slogan will fix the problems in our school? The guy before him said “Higher expectations equal higher outcomes.” The guy before him said “Results first, children always.” What the fuck does that even mean?
Now he’s saying that he wants to make the school better by listening to the staff and making decisions based off of their counsel. Yeah, he wants to use our ideas so that he can shift the blame to us when he fucks up.
God damn, this guy had me there for a second. I’m so dumb. Why do I always think the new principals will be any different than the old principals? I’m so god damned naïve. It’s been this way in the eight years I’ve been here and it’ll be that way for the next twenty four years of my career. I’ll just ride this guy out like I rode the old ones out and like I’ll ride the next ones out. Have fun, Dr. Coleman. In six months, you’ll be updating your résumé and asking around about principal vacancies in surrounding districts.
I mentally check out and start thinking about the names of my opponents.
Isn’t Alex Winterz the name of the guy who played Bill in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure? Or maybe he was Ted. No, that was the asshole in the bus movie. Keanu. Wasn’t there a Key & Peele movie called Keanu? God, they are not funny.
Tina: Are you paying attention?
No, it’s Alex Winter- no “Z” at the end. Whatever happened to him? Did he star in anything else? I guess Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey counts, but that movie’s not as good. Yeah, I can’t think of anything else he did. Which is what’s going to happen to Alex WinterZ after this Sunday. That name stealing jerk is going to disappear and be as irrelevant as Bill S. Preston, Esq. He thinks he’s going to hit the Elbow of Doom? No, HE’s going to be doomed!
There I go again, getting angry about the stupid fucking name. I can’t help it. Besides, no matter how many moves he has, I’m not intimidated. I believe in myself and I know that the Elbow of Doom won’t be witnessed by the fans in Wheeling. If Alex Winterz wants to “gain some gold,” then he’s going to have to go through me- but he’s not going to make it very far.
Tina nudges me. I pick my head back up and look at the principal, but I’m still not listening.
Joe Smarts. What kind of name is that? It sounds like the name of a 1930s gangster. “Meh, Joe Smarts here, meh! You can’t get me coppa, meh!” Oh, wait, he’s Australian. What would that sound like? “Joe Smarts. Dingo ate ya baby!”
Oh, fuck. I made myself laugh out loud- and Dr. Coleman is right in front of me. He’s stopped talking and just staring straight at me. All the other teachers are staring at me, too. Great. Just fucking great. I look at Tina. She’s looking away, shaking her head.
Dr. Coleman: Is everything alright, Mr…
I don't want to say my name, but I know that the longer I wait, the angrier he is going to get.
Cliff: Mc...Manus. Cliff McManus.
Dr. Coleman: McManus. McManus. McManus
He repeats it quietly to himself a bunch of times like he’s making a mental note. Great. Day one and I’m on the new principal’s shit list. Fuck me.
Tina leans over to me and whispers.
Tina: Of all the times to make yourself laugh.
I look at her sideways as if to say “Back off.”
Fucking Joe Smarts. I blame him. If he didn’t have a funny name, I wouldn’t have laughed. Brainiac. I hate brainiacs, now especially that I’m a teacher. They always want to answer every question and get angry when you don’t call on them, like they were the only ones in the class. Sometimes they just say shit that has nothing to do with the class discussion. They just want to show how smart they are. When they do say something relevant, they go on for what seems like an hour as if they were human encyclopedias. Why are they like that?
It’s because they’re insecure. They have invested so much into trying to be smart that they think that if they don’t answer every single question or dominate every discussion that people will think they’re dumb. This is the kind of person that Joe Smarts is, I bet. He’s got to be smarter than everybody else and try to make everyone else around him feel dumb. I feel bad that that’s how he wants to live his life. I bet he spent his whole childhood studying and not making any friends. Or having any girlfriends. Poor kid. His life is only going to get worse when I pin him this Sunday. It won’t be my fault. He’s his own worst enemy. I mean, he’s going to be so concerned with not looking dumb that his concentration won’t be on the match. That’ll make it a lot easier to hit him with the Doomstone. Poor little shit.
Thank God, the meeting is over. I walk to the front of the auditorium where a pile of new grade books sit on the stage. I go up to grab one of the books. I look to the side and see Dr. Coleman glaring at me. He walks over. Fuck. Is he going to embarrass me in front of everybody?
He pats me on the back.
Dr. Coleman: I’ll be real interested to see you in the classroom this year, Mr. McManus.
I try to act cool.
Cliff: Um, yeah, anytime you want to come in.
Dr. Coleman: Oh, trust me, I know.
He smiles mischievously and goes to talk to another teacher.
Tina smacks me on the shoulder lightly.
Tina: Why can’t you ever just pay attention?
I could lie, but I decide to tell the embarrassing truth.
Cliff: I was thinking about my match this Sunday.
I admitted it like I was telling my dad that I had put a hole in the dining room wall- meekly.
Tina: Oh, God. Maybe thinking about school when you’re in school might help. You better be ready every day for Dr. Coleman to pop in at any time to watch you teach. You better not slack off, unless you want to live in my parents' basement the rest of your life, that is.
She walks away. Fuck me. I just want to go to my classroom, curl up in a ball, and die.
But first I have to finish my bulletin boards.
Like I said, I can finish these things with my eyes closed.
September is the exploration bulletin board.
October is the thirteen colonies.
November- American Revolution
December to January- the Constitution
Februar....
You get it.
I get everything hung up. Next, what am I teaching the first week? Well, the first day is always about the rules. The election is coming up, so I’ll spend a few days talking about that. Then, I have to spend a day on September 11. After that, what’s next.
I look through my plan book from the year before.
Let’s see here. Oh, right, causes of exploration first, followed by Columbus, European countries compete to create empires in North America, slavery and the Middle Passage. Alright, that’s about a week and a half. I’ve got that all planned out.
Do I need to make any new materials? I look through my binder. Nope, everything I’ve used the last few years looks good. I used to make new stuff all the time, but once I got the hang of it, it wasn’t necessary to do that anymore. Great. Man, this shit gets easier every year.
Every year. Every year. For the next twenty-four years.
I just contemplate that amount of time for a few seconds.
Can I keep doing the same thing over and over again until I retire? Every year, the bulletin boards look the same. Every year, I teach the same lessons. Every few years, I get the same type of principal. I come into work every day at the same time, take the same commute, see the same people, have the same schedule, see the same type of kids and talk to the same type of parents, smell the same smells from the cafeteria, teach in the same classroom, walk through the same hallways, wear the same type of clothes, feel the same types of stresses, everything is just same, same, same.
And it’ll all be the same if I haven’t already won the WCF World Championship by this time next year. By this time next year, I could be in this room, doing the exact same thing that I’m doing right now. And my wrestling career, my DREAM CAREER could be over. Why did I make that deal with Tina? Why did I give myself such a high goal?
I didn’t want this! I didn’t want to become a teacher. Yeah, I like it, but I don’t LOVE it. I’m good at it, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.
Why did I choose this career path?
I think about the day my dad asked me what I wanted to major in when I went to college. One thing you have to understand was that I was going to college. Even if I hadn’t forgotten my dream to become a wrestler, I was going to college. It wasn’t a choice in my parents’ house. My dad didn’t go and he always regretted it. He wasn’t going to let me do the same.
The question came out of nowhere, really. We were at a family party and my dad just decided to bring it up.
Dad: What are you going to major in?
Cliff: History.
That was an easy answer. I always liked history, always did well in it. That was a no-brainer.
Dad: And what are you going to do with that degree?
That question was a little bit harder. I hadn’t thought about that yet. I just blurted out the first thing I could think of.
Cliff: Become a teacher.
My mom was a teacher. My aunt was a teacher. It made sense that I should become a teacher, too, right?
Dad: And why do you want to do that?
Fuck, Dad, I thought to myself. What was with the twenty questions? I just picked the most generic answer I could think of.
Cliff: Because I want to work with kids.
He looked at me like he didn’t buy my answer. He’s a cynical guy, but he stopped interrogating me after that.
So, to answer my own question, I chose this career path because I couldn’t think of anything else to say when pressed about what I wanted to do with my life. It never crossed my mind before college that I could change my mind or that I could be undecided when I first started out. I even majored in history for my graduate degree. I boxed myself in pretty badly.
But that was the past. Believe me, I spent a lot of time worrying about the decisions in my past, regretting a lot of things. I’m trying to fix the mistakes of my past now. If I can do that, it could mean a lot for me. If I can win the World Championship, I could make a lot of money- enough money to get out of this job and enough money to do everything I want for Tina, including a new house.
And I can be happy.
Most importantly, I can be happy.
I can’t take these four guys lightly on Sunday. Gallagher’s got the craziness, Wilds and Winterz have the versatility, and Smarts has the ...smarts.
I have to win. I have to keep winning. If I don’t, I’ll never get a title shot. I could try to win War, but that’s the ultimate multi-man match. No, I’ve got to win every match I’m in. It’s either that or by August 28, 2017, I’m out.
I have to get to the gym. I have to get to LIWA and use their ring to train. There’s no time to waste. I’ve got to leave now. School doesn’t start for another five days. I’ll worry about it when the kids come in for their first day.
I grab my school bag and walk out of the classroom.
Time to go to work, Cliff.
Time to make up for lost time.
Time to erase all of my past mistakes.
Time to do something different.
