I wanted to start this column with, ‘there’s a guy subbing for Ms. Blake today, third floor of Donnelly, D301,’ but everyone would have thrown down The Dart and run over to see a guy who isn’t even there… I just made that up.  I didn’t even say he was attractive, I simply said the word ‘guy.’  Had I said, ‘there’s a really cool lady subbing for Mr. Thomas today, second floor of M&A, M205,’ no one would have moved.

There’s a reason there are stalker pics of Mr. Fast on facebook (by this, I mean girls will take pictures of him when he’s not looking or put themselves in the foreground of a picture, only to capture him in the background), a reason we like to make a big deal out of the bromance between Mr. Fast and Mr. Thomas (Mr. Thomasknows what bands Mr. Fast likes… yeah, it’s weird), a reason we like to talk about seeing Mr. Shrock running on Ward Parkway (in gym clothes!) and a reason we fight each other for who gets to be in Mr. Himes’ room during activity (and there’s nothing particularly special about his actual room): when we go to an all-girls school and don’t see a single male (brothers and dads don’t count) for five whole days, those male teachers um…start to become a little…ugh, fine…attractive.

Click here to see Julia Stapinski’s editorial cartoon: “St. Teresa’s Academy’s infatuation with male teachers”

Okay, before you say anything, it’s not like I want to date one of my teachers. That’s gross.  I’m just saying that when I walk into Mr. Bertalott’s room, I sit a little more like a lady and a little less like the STA slouch that I am in all of my other classes.  When I eat my lunch in Mr. Whitney’s room, I eat a little more properly than I would in, say, advisory where I scarf down my PB&J in front of Ms. Marquis before activity.  And I’m always a little more flattered when Mr. Fast asks me how soccer is going than I am when a female teacher asks me the same question.

Now, male teachers, before you let the fact that you start becoming attractive to male-deprived 14-18 year-olds after five days of boylessness get to your heads, know that the second the last bell rings on Friday, we’re back to stalking, talking about, making a big deal about and fighting over boys our own age.  Until then, go ahead and bask in the spotlight, cameras flashing and gossip swirling with your names.  Or actually, please just pretend I never said any of this.

But, seriously, third floor of Donnelly… there’s a guy over there.