I have found to my chagrin that I have a monkey on my back, a happy monkey, but a monkey never-the-less. This little creature is a serious need for the morning caffeine fix, an addiction to Diet Coke. I discovered the problem as a substitute teacher eight years ago when I was supposed to take on 8th grade English classes at Perry Middle School. I had been there before, and I knew what to expect from these kids. They are vicious little substitute teacher eaters. That is why there are so many bones on the floor of that middle school. Only really tough teachers and subs survive there.
Now, I once had doubts about how tough I am as a disciplinarian. I used to like kids too much to make some of the hardest choices. If you like a kid, it is hard to send him or her to a detention center or alternative school. You hate to set their little feet on a path that we teachers always say leads to prisons, gangs, and poverty. But as a sub, I didn’t get to really know and care about them. You learn to get them before they get you. I enjoyed killing off a few of the worst sub-killers. By becoming a tough, mean sub, I had developed the power to get through the day without real challenges to my authority, personal integrity, family history, and anything else that middle schoolers will try to undercut. That tough demeanor, though, is 90 per cent Coca Cola boost. I am in the habit of buying a Diet Coke in the teacher’s lounge before the start of classes. I have never learned to drink coffee. I can’t drink coffee and come away with the feeling I need to be singing “I believe I can fly…I believe I can touch the sky…” like Dilbert has been doing in the comic strips lately.
Well, you can probably see it coming. That morning the Magic Go Juice was sold out. Cheap gol’ dang schools let that happen way too much! Forget the better health care for teachers, the Govenor needs to promise that the Coke machines will never run dry. I had to face the monkies and the monsters with no spiritual armor from the little red can, actually silver can because as a diabetic, I can only drink things that are un-sugarfied. It was a formula for pure disaster that I had faced far too often in the employ of the Wicked Witch of Creek Valley, the principal who changed me from a teacher into a substitute teacher. Oh well, you turn extra mean as you get old. Frowns enhanced by wrinkles are much scarier than any I used to have. I gave the “Killer Eye of Painful Death Lurking” better than any other substitute teacher, thanks to loads of practice, and my Popeye-like squinky eye left over from an old football injury. I made it through the day without my Diet Coke. Does that mean I should give it up? Horrors! I am swilling a Diet Coke right now and trembling at the mere thought. No withdrawal and delerium tremens for this old Coke addict. I have chosen my poison and now will live with it.
Catch a Falling Star 
I hear you over my fuzzing carbonated glass of pure delight. People are always telling me to quit and that the ingredients are like formaldehyde. I say it’s keeping me well preserved.
Preserved, not pickled… I like that.
As a former high school teacher, I can vouch that caffeine is the cornerstone of an effective education. As long as the teachers have a caffeine supply, the kids will learn. Love your story and keep up the great work!
Thanks. It’s nice to hear from someone who knows the truth.
I understand. High school history teacher-low income, minority, drugs, violence, below grade level, dysfunctional families, new immigrant arrivals. 33 years. I am so glad for those 2006 heart attacks that made me get out. I should have done so many years earlier but Florida needs 30 years to retire not a mere 20 like New York for instance.
Texas takes 30 too. I am leaving at 31 years. I’m going to miss the kids more than I care to admit, but I should’ve quit last year.