#104 "Hot For Teacher" by Van Halen

A few months ago my wife started taking a dance class. Though she was only in the first session, if she stayed in the program through six levels there would be a graduation where she would have to give a solo performance. In it she would choreograph her own routine and dance to a song of her choice. Though she was REALLY looking far ahead, she came to me for some musical selections. We went all over the place with song possibilities until she threw out "Hot For Teacher." She thought it would be hysterical for her to dance to this, with me being in the education business and all. I actually didn't even own "1984," the album the track is from, but upon downloading it the memories just came flooding back. Where have you gone, David Lee?

Van Halen were the sh*t back in the eighties. Talk about a real American band! Had the Super Bowl half-time shows been like they are today back then, you KNOW we would've gotten a little Vitamin VH at one of them. Who else could've blown the doors off of any US sports venue like Eddie and the boys could back in their hey-day? It would've been awesome.

I still remember sitting in my eighth grade science class in 1984. My teacher was Mr. Warren. He was a real dick, to put it mildly. One time this girl Barbara who sat next to me totally copied the answers to my test. The next day Mr. Warren pulls ME aside, accuses ME of cheating, then proceeds to inform me that I was a getting a zero for the test. He wouldn't listen to any sort of argument on my behalf. Damn... I hated that f*cking guy. But you know what? I got my revenge. I had this friend whose parents split and the kids were kind of on their own. This friend did all kinds of crazy stuff. I'm not talking drugs or anything like that, but the guy stole everything that wasn't locked down. And when it was locked down, he managed a way to steal that too. Dang... the guy stole a bowling ball from Bowl America one time! Just for the hell of it. He stole fire extinguishers, street signs, magazines... you name it. He was also big into the destruction of property. We'd drive full speed down a street on trash day, just barreling into all the garbage cans along the side of the road. We plowed into a parking lot pumpkin patch pile once, just to see what would happen. I'm crackin' up now thinking about it.

One day this guy got the idea to buy a bb pistol. I have no idea why he wanted it, but sure enough he got one. We took it out one day and were trying to shoot tin cans with it. For some reason, the thing wasn't working at all. It would barely dent the cans. We couldn't figure out what the problem was. Finally he looks at me and says "Shoot that car." I told him he was crazy. I wasn't going to do anything like that. "It won't even dent a tin can," he said. "It's not going to do anything to that car." I still remember kneeling in the parking lot of Springfield Mall and aiming the pistol at this yellow VW Bug. I fired the trigger and the the glass cracked and spread like a spider web. I was petrified, but we jumped in my buddy's car and sped off as quickly as we could. "I can't believe you did that," he laughed. I kept arguing that it was an accident... that I couldn't have known that would happen, but he kept laughing all the same. He was older than me. I was his little accomplice, too young, too scared, and too good of a kid to anything bad MYself. This was my first real foray into his world. He loved it. Sure enough, that one windshield sparked an idea in his head and it became one more item on our resume of destruction. I don't think I shot any more cars personally. I still felt bad about the whole thing, though it seemed funny as hell watching him do it. I enjoyed feats of skilled target-shooting, like hitting street signs along the side of the road while driving past them. We even had a sound for it, "Shick-Tang," for every time I hit one. We shot up everything, man. The shop windows on Main Street. The glassed-in domed waiting areas at the bus-stop. We were bad. Even to this day when I hear about vandalism and my wife gets all "If they ever shoot out our car windows I'll kill somebody," I always just keep my mouth shut. I know that my time will come on day. Karma will come back to me.

So anyhow... one day I was complaining again about my prick science teacher Mr. Warren. I just hated the guy. Finally my friend said, "Want to go over to his house later?" He looked at me with that smile that told me we weren't going by for a social call. "I think so," I said. This is the reason why, when I got into teaching, that an old veteran told me never to live in the neighborhood where my students lived. This is especially true if you're an asshole, like Mr. Warren. Evening came, and my buddy picked me up. I pulled the gun from under the passenger seat, cocked it, and was ready to go. I can still see it so clearly, all these years later. My teacher lived on a corner, right where his street turned off another one. His car was out on the street, right in front of his home. I could see the lights on in his house. I knew that f*cker was inside. We slowly pulled up right alongside his car. I rolled down my window and with two shots at close range took out both windows along the driver's side. We had to actually drive down his street in order to turn around and get out of there, so we passed the car again on our way home. No one had come outside. The deed was done. The whole thing felt like a mob hit.

And why this tale of teenage destruction? I can still see Eric, this kid in the front row of Mr. Warren's class, wearing his Van Halen 1984 tour shirt, complete with its Japanese lettering. It's a crazy look into my brain to see how I got from my wife's dance class to blowing out my 8th grade science teacher's windows!

"Hot For Teacher" is from the album "1984." To hear the song, click on the icon in the widget jukebox along the side of the blog.