Day 47 - Mr. Smith

Mr. Smith was fairly short, stout, wore round wire-framed glasses, had bright red, curly hair which was balding on top and tied back in a longish ponytail in the back. He was a pale Irishman who blushed easily and told inappropriate jokes while teaching history. A lot of my peers loved Mr. Smith because he wasn't a traditional teacher. He would begin a debate on censorship by complaining about Wal-mart bleeping out his Snoop Dogg CD. He listened to Snoop Dogg for the profanity, didn't everyone?

The off-putting thing about Mr. Smith for me was his sexism. He made awful, sexist jokes, specifically about one of our assistant principals. She was a tall, fairly attractive blond and when she would come into the room he'd make a joke and then go over and talk to her. Once she left he'd tell us something like, "She just promised to come over later tonight; I have some curtains I need hung." And laughter would rise up around me. Ugh.

He also had this bizarre touchy relationship with girls. Personally, he used to crack my knuckles. I never wanted to crack my knuckles or have him do it. He'd grab my hands and squeeze my fits until they popped. It was strange. Usually I would only talk to him outside of class when Keith wanted to talk to him.

I don't know if Mr. Smith crossed the line with anyone else. I'm not sure I would necessarily say he was sexually harassing me, but he was a dirty-minded fellow. He was the first dirty man I had to deal with. There have been countless more since him, but I learned the beginnings of how to silence them with a glare, weasel out of encounters without insulting them, and how to avoid them.