My government teacher my senior year of high school is still the hottest thing over twenty-three that I’ve ever seen. Seriously. He gave blood every sixty days, took his dog to church, and helped old ladies cross the street. I actually started to think he was lying because who even does any of that? Liars, that’s who.
But sadly, he wasn’t lying and he actually could’ve been the nicest man on the planet. He was a good ole southern guy who said stuff like “Let me take a step back” and “every day of the week and twice on Sundays”. His wallpaper on his laptop was his dog at the beach. His dog. That he takes to church. At the beach. I mean REALLY? He used to yell at guys in the hallway that cussed in front of girls or said anything remotely disrespectful. Plus, he was like, THE BEST teacher.
He was just all around perfection. We called him by his first name when he couldn’t hear us and every girl in the school wanted to date him. Half the time we argued over who was closest to his age, which was totally irrelevant because even though it wasn’t technically illegal for those of us that were eighteen, it was still super weird and illegal in the eyes of the school and the state and everyone else. Also none of us thought he would actually go for anybody because he was super hot and great and nobody thought that they were good enough. Really – we talked about it. It was a thing.
Despite all of that being super sad, it was super distracting. I could’ve written the constitution myself and I still wouldn’t have cared one bit about it if anyone but him was talking. He sat on the edge of his desk most of the time, but other times he would take a few steps forward and stand right in front of my desk, which was the greatest thing ever. Just saying. He usually kept a pencil on his ear and sometimes he would twirl it in between his fingers while he talked.
He called everyone “Miss” and “Mr” and if you asked him a yes or no question you always got yes or no ma’am and yes or no sir as your answer. He treated us like adults, which was not helpful at all in our never ending internal battles to remind ourselves that he was our teacher and we were his students and we needed to stop having Aria/Ezra moments in our heads.
We all started to hate our other classes, and when we had to leave his class and take economics the second half of the year, it was devastating. Sometimes we’d see him in the hallway and stare and then act like we weren’t looking. I was a student volunteer for another teacher, so sometimes I’d have to walk past his room to get to the copy room and I would always get a nod and a “Miss Nicks” before ducking into the room next door. I’m almost positive my face turned red every single time. How could it not have?
School that year basically became a giant game of “who can get (insert name here) to notice them faster than everybody else” and it was awful. It was our Hunger Games. One time I actually saw a girl fake laugh with a guy as she walked by, only to glance over and see if he was looking. That was embarrassing. Mostly because he had actually glanced over and then saw her look to see if he was looking. Awkward. Another time, on the “date” part at the top of an assignment, a girl wrote “me please” on the line.
Having a hot teacher only helped our grades, but nothing else. We religiously paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth, and we’d remember them weeks later on the exam, almost always verbaitm. Even the guys in the class hung on his every word, probably secretly wishing they were just like him because he was a real mans man and all the girls swooned. Have I said yet that he was perfect?
However, once I graduated and was confident I’d never see him again as I was moving two states away for college, I shot him an email telling him how great of a teacher I thought he was. He never answered me. So really, maybe he was a low key douchebag and we all just pretended not to notice. Either way. Still hot.