I’m one of those active, eager teachers who volunteers for anything. If a chaperone for Prom or Homecoming is needed, then I’m the one who steps up.
Sure, I’ve been “written up” for making out with sophomore boys, but whatever. There’s nothing more delightful than sharing a fresh Sprite with a high school boy after a rugged freak session on the dance floor.
Recently, there was a posting for a volunteer needed to take a group of students to the aquarium. Something about studying marine life. The Science Club needed an adult supervisor, so I stepped up after I learned there was a $25 dollar compensation.
These weren’t my normal high school students though - it was a program for local disaffected elementary kids. Some were poor, some were mentally challenged, but all of them were pretty unattractive. That was the first thing that crossed my mind when the bus pulled up in front of their school.
“Jesus Christ! We should just run them over now, put ‘em out of their misery, ” I joked to the bus driver. I put my hand up for a high-five, but he turned away from me.
As the kids walked into the bus, I tried to cheer them up by making some funny jokes. “What’s up little Jeffrey Dahmer?” I asked one little awkward boy as he limped by me. This kid had oily hair and skin. He had “future serial killer” written all over him.
After I said it again, he said, “Stop saying that. My name is Tommy.”
“What’s up sensitive-about-your-name guy??” This kid needed to take it easy.
Three girls walked into the bus wearing white t-shirts.
“Hey look, it’s the white t-shirt club? Can I join? Woah - you need to get out of that training bra and into something with more support. Seriously, are you hearing me?” I had to say something to the biggest white t-shirt club member. She was busting out of her top. “You think the manatees want to see back fat and hard nip? Show a little class, alright. Poor or not. Jeez.”
The girl kind of slumped into her hard leather seat. I told her I’d check to see if the bus came with a first aid kid. “Maybe there’s an ace bandage in there so we can wrap up those bombs of yours.”
En route to the aquarium, I took over the bus’ microphone system to make a short speech:
“Listen up everyone. My name is Miss Andrea. I know many of you probably never dreamed of getting to see real fish and sea life, and all of you probably won’t ever get the chance to go to an aquarium ever again because these things cost money, and as I understand it, you guys are pretty hard-up. So let’s just focus on the rules: no talking, no loud breathing, no singing, and no getting out of your seat until I’m off the bus.”
After my speech, I asked if anyone brought any snacks. A handful of kids raised their hands, and then I told them that snacks aren’t allowed on public transportation, so they needed to give them to me. I started to eat a small Hostess snack cake from one of the kids’ lunches, but it tasted kind of stale, so I chucked it out the bus window.
We started the day at the dolphin arena watching a really dumb show with some trainer showing off for like an hour. Thank God I brought my US Weekly. Everyone clapped and all that, but it started to get pretty good when the trainer asked for volunteers from the audience. One of the 5th graders from my bus raised her hand, but I gave her that “teacher look” and she put her grimy hand right back down. I raised my hand high into the air, and the trainer called me up. He asked me if I’d like to swim with the dolphins.
“For sure,” I said confidently.
He told me to change into my bathing suit and meet back at the arena in five minutes.
“I’m wearing a black bra and thong, so I don’t really need a suit, do I?” The audience cheered.
He shrugged and said it was a family show, but eventually he let me into the tank. He tried to get me to hold some fish high in the air so the dolphins would leap after it, but I told him I had an idea to give the audience a real show. I’d once seen a porno on cable called “Marine Mammal-Jamma 69,” and I knew of a pretty cool trick, especially since we were working with bottlenose dolphins. They look like this:
I stuck a small piece of squid into my buttox, and the dolphin went after it -hard. It was a really special trick, and I felt great after the show. I even told the kids I was taking a smoke break.
Many of my students looked distressed after the show and said they wanted to go home, so I told them they could leave if they could find a ride. Two of them left.
Afterwards, we made our way to the shark tank, and I was pretty surprised that there was an opening at the very top. The guy in charge of the exhibit said it was because so many people liked to see the sharks’ fins sticking out of the water, but I thought it was kind of scary.
One of my students, a boy I called “Bel” (because his belly was so friggin’ massive), was eating some carmel corn. The shark expert was warbling on and on about how the sharks are predatoru and dangerous and blah blah blah, but Bel kept asking me if he could feed the sharks some of his carmel corn just like the dolphins got fed from the trainer’s hand.
“Not now Bel,” I kept saying, but then a thought occured to me. “Actually, they probably won’t like the carmel corn, but they’ll probably eat beef jerky or a sandwich with meat if you have one.”
Bell dug around in his backpack and came up with a circle of pink bologna. “That might work,” I told him.
Bell dangled the bologna over the shark tank for like 30 seconds before a massive tiger shark swam up and attacked the meat. It was awesome. We could see jagged teeth in his massive mouth.
“Do it again,” I told Bel.
Bel said he didn’t have any more bologna, so I snuck away for a minute and brought back a hot dog. He began dangling the meat over the tank, but the shark wasn’t coming. It was taking forever, so I had this great idea to grab the hot dog and smear it all over Bel’s face, arms, and tshirt. I told him that sharks prefer the scent of human flesh mixed with fresh meat. He nodded eagerly.
What happened next isn’t exactly clear. Bel was smiling at me when all of a sudden, a huge tiger shark appeared and smashed his jaw down onto Bel’s torso. This shark wasn’t just going after the hot dog; he wanted Bel too.
“Fight back Bel!” I yelled, but it was too late. There was chaos everywhere. The shark trainer was yelling for everyone to get back, and he tried to taser the shark with this long electronic device, but the shark was hungry for fresh Bel. Pretty soon the tank was stained with Bel’s lifeblood, and I noticed mothers covering their childrens’ faces with their hands.
I picked up Bel’s box of carmel corn and poured the rest of the box onto the ground. “This is for Bel,” I said.
The police asked me a few questions and said I had to file a report with the state, Bel’s school, and with the hopsital, but then they said I could go.
On the way back to the school, I calmed the kids down by playing Elton John’s song “Circle of Life” over the loudspeaker. A lot of them were crying, and many looked like they were in shock.
We dropped them off, and I waved to them as the bus pulled away.
“Don’t you think we should wait with them until their parents pick them up?” the bus driver asked.
“Nah. Bel’s dead. Nothing matters,” I answered. “Just drive. I don’t care where. Just drive.”
I learned a lot that day, and I dedicate this post to Bel and to any chaperone who’s lost a kid in a shark attack.
God bless you Bel.
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