I'm just fresh out of college with a new teaching certificate in primary education. I played baseball, and wanted to go pro. At least play in the minors somewhere. But I busted by ankle nearly in half one day when i was running towards second on a hit-and-run play, when the batter who happened to be my identical twin brother, hit the ball that was a very low grass-cutting heat-seeking linedrive missile that seemingly purposely targeted my ankle right at the wrong time just before taking one more step at a full sprint as i was preparing to dive headfirst into second. The ball overturbed my ankle at the very last second, just before i came down full-force at a dead sprint on the side of it.
As you can imagine, it did massive damage to my ankle. Shredded everything. Ligaments, cartilege, and chipped several bones. I had to have surgery on it, and it took the rest of the school year and the entire summer before my senior year to heal.
I went to play baseball my senior year of college, but I wasnt the same ball player. I was slower. Less agile, and more afraid. Too much damage to the ankle, made the recruiters run away. At least my twin got drafted, so I was really happy for him. Im his biggest fan.
Yeah, it sucks. But at least I have the woman of my dreams. Beautiful, gorgeous tan Italian woman with long, black silky shiny hair. I have my health, 22 years old, and in excellent shape. Im able to bench press 300 lbs while weighing in at 220 lbs. I have to work out like crazy, as I'm naturally a scrawny guy. You look at my twin brother and I, we arent the stereotypical meathead-looking douchebags.
I got a new job at a local middle school as a gym teacher, and the school baseball coach. Summer is coming to a close, and I'm going into my new office a week before they let the maniacal anklebiters into the school in order to finialize my prep work for the year. I recheck all the sports equipment in the gym supply closet, check all the workout machines, and generally make sure everything is in proper working order for about the 15th time since I was given my access code to the school building, and the keys for the gym and my new office upon being hired. I don't want a single injury because of faulty equipment.
I sit at my new desk, and go over the cliff notes of the kids assigned to my classes. Read comments from the previous years' teachers. From the 5th grade elementary school teachers down the road for the new 6th graders. As well as notes from my new colleagues at my school for the returning 7th and 8th grade classes. Obviously, i dont have any names to faces yet, but i at least can memorize the names on my roster sheets. Which names have behavioral issues. Which ones inwont have to worry as much about. I mainly study the previous gym teacher's notes he left me upon his retirement for tmy 7th and 8th grade students.
He was a crusty old fat man whom I didnt like very much when I met him at the very end of his last semester just before his retirement. I definitely wasnt surprised when I read through his notes on each student he bothered to write about, he had something negative to say abkut each one. Well. Obviously, I'm going to have to take that with a grain of salt and form my own opinions. Especially when some of these that are obviously "not at all athletic" have glowing reports from their other teachers. Who cares if someone sucks at sports? That has nothing to do with the grading of gym class. Gym was mostly for the kids to get up and run around like maniacs for a little while anyway, just to get the blood flowing. Get the pent-up energy out, and make their classroom learning more efficient.
In any case, I finish up and go home to my gorgeous wife who is already 8 months pregnant and ready to pop our first child.
Life is grand, and I'm on top of the world.