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supermanteacherIf I could dunk on anyone, I would dunk on Superman. Now, I’m not some comic book nerd who thinks that Superman sucks because some other superhero is cooler because he wears black and has emotional problems is better. I’m just a teacher at Robeson High School in Chicago who wants to show Superman that he’s a jerk.

The dunk would obviously take place at the Gym in Robeson High School, which was recently rated one of the worst public schools in America. If it were take place on a playground outside Superman could just fly away if he didn’t like how things were going. And while I suppose he could just bust through the roof, I would welcome that as we can send him an inflated bill for the repair that we could use for much needed school supplies.

I would arrive for the dunk via Public Transportation (by taking the Red Line down to 69th St. and Normal and then taking the 67 Bus.) This would make everyone see me as an everyman, someone you can relate to. Superman, of course, would arrive by flying. Since no one can fly, they would hate him like a wrestler who shows up to his matches in a limousine. Jerks.

As soon as he landed everyone would boo him and a bunch of kids would hold up signs that say funny things like “Dwight Howard is the real Superman” and “Is Nietschke your real Dad?” I would immediately know that the latter sign was not from our school and is probably being held up by some pretentious ass from the nearby University of Chicago. The giveaway is not the literary reference but rather the fact that the sign only has writing on one side. Most of the signs the kids are holding up are made from old boxes, street signs, and that paper you sit on when you are at the doctors office.

There’s no way I’m letting this college boy watch my dunk. Back to Hyde Park brainiac, this dunk isn’t for nerds.

By this point, Superman is totally confused as to why everyone hates him and he would be like “what’s the problem here? Has a villain taking away all of your things and destroyed your neighborhood?” and some sassy kid would be like “Yes Superman, that villain is called ‘society.’”

Everyone would be impressed except Superman, who wouldn’t get the super smart political reference. That kid would get an automatic A in Social Studies. Good work Jamal.

Then there would be an awkward silence and Superman would ask for a ball. A nearby student would toss a basketball to him that immediately deflated upon his touch because it’s so old. Superman would ask “what do you use for balls around here?” and I would hold up a cabbage. Superman would be confused for a second then I would pull out a real ball that I brought from home.

The students would go nuts when they saw that ball. Then I would toss the cabbage into the crowd and people would scatter like a live grenade because this is a public school and they had never seen a fresh vegetable on school property.

Once the cabbage has been appropriately disposed of, Superman surveys the situation and starts saying stuff like “you know I could paint this place in five minutes and possible repair most of the structural problems within a few hours.” Yeah right, and then we lose our government funding because the city decides that we’re now some sort of Charter School. Chartered by Superman? Hell no.

I start dribbling and Superman knows what’s up, he recognizes the skill. He grew up in Kansas, he knows his way around the hardcourt. As I draw closer I notice that he’s down in a defensive stance but he’s floating a few inches off the ground. What a show off!

As I get closer and closer, he starts dropping closer and closer to the ground. He can’t figure out why until he looks down at my bright green shoes. Yup, kryptonite soles. Sure they are heavy as hell and I’m pretty sure they are giving me cancer, but I put in some sweet gel insoles so it sort of balances.

Superman’s shoes look like wrestling boots, there’s no way he’s getting proper ankle support. But rather than exploit his inability to move laterally, I choose to allow my kryptonite do it’s thing. So I decide I’m gonna back him down.

After a few steps towards the basket the kryponite has taken full effect and Superman is tugging on his shorts like he’s Oliver Miller in the second quarter.

Big mistake.

I take one step back and then jump right onto his back and head towards the rim. By now Superman is so weak, he’s lying on the ground and I see of my students run over to him to check for a wallet.

“Mark! Jerry! Get away from that man, leave him be.”

Yes, I’m that good of a teacher, I can keep order MID-DUNK without the use of violence.

“He’s got no pockets!” Jerry would yell back.

Anyways, I think about dunking hard but I see that our rim is made up entirely out of old wire hangers. So I switch to a Michael Jordan style double clutch to honor the hometown hero and return to the ground.

Then I would say “Teachers are the Real Superheroes.”

Terry Adams received his degree in Education from the University of Illinois-Chicago.  He is a teacher in the Chicago Public School system and a registered Democrat.

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