I try to be a good teacher, I really do. I work hard to develop my lesson plans, taking into consideration not only the content and how the lesson will play out in standardized state tests, but also trying to make them and enjoyable.

Three years ago I wrote my Master's thesis on Dr. Howard Gardner's theory of Multiple Intelligences--linguistic intelligence ("word smart"), Logical-mathematical intelligence ("number/reasoning smart"), Spatial intelligence ("picture smart"), Bodily-Kinesthetic intelligence ("body smart"), Musical intelligence ("music smart"), Interpersonal intelligence ("people smart"), Intrapersonal intelligence ("self-smart"), and Naturalist intelligence ("nature smart"). For example, if you're teaching or learning about the law of supply and demand in economics, you might read about it (linguistic), study mathematical formulas that express it (logical-mathematical), examine a graphic chart that illustrates the principle (spatial), observe the law in the natural world (naturalist) or in the human world of commerce (interpersonal); examine the law in terms of your own body [e.g. when you supply your body with lots of food, the hunger demand goes down; when there's very little supply, your stomach's demand for food goes way up and you get hungry] (bodily-kinesthetic and intrapersonal); and/or write a song (or find an existing song) that demonstrates the law (perhaps Dylan's "Too Much of Nothing?").

Now I always try to include that theory in my planning and in my teaching.

I think my hard work and dedication have paid off. Six years ago I won the "Best Teacher" award at our school (including a $1,000 bonus), and last year I was granted the "Teacher of the Year" award for the entire district (including a nice $5,000 bonus). Equally valuable although less tangible is the feedback I get from colleagues, parents, and even my pupils.

There is one thing that, if it became public knowledge, would probably change the esteem I earn; it could even cost me my job. Unfortunately there is little I can do to remedy the situation. Perhaps to be more honest, there is little I am willing to do to remedy the situation.

My confession is that I have a weakness for little girls; I love to look at the ten-and-eleven -year old cuties in my sixth grade class. I am regularly thrilled by seeing their bright smiles and at hearing their charming little voices. I follow their games and their fantasies, I watch the same television programs and cartoons, and I listen to the same music they do. No doubt this helps make me a better teacher, for I can truly relate to my pupils. In case you're wondering, I don't spend my entire life living the dreams of a eleven-year-old, but also keep up with the news and current events along with reading classical literature (okay, so I've read Nabokov's "Lolita" three times).

My immersion into the life of my pupils might be seen by some as a bit eccentric, but not dangerous, yet they don't know my Walter Mitty side. I like to take advantage of the many opportunities I get as a teacher to peak up girl's skirts or down their blouses, and I occasionally "accidentally" brush up against my pupils; these experiences often leave me in a state of excitement while teaching and provide many opportunities for masturbation fantasies. One of my favorite pastimes is surfing the Internet and I occasionally browse "forbidden" or "illegal" sites to look at pictures or read sex stories.

The downside of the above is that I haven't been able to establish a lasting relationship with a woman of my own age. More often than not there are serious physical flaws--pimply or pock-marked faces, too-wide hips, overweight in general, saggy boobs--or a hundred other things that just cannot compete with the beauty of a young girl. When I want to talk about "Bratz" dolls, Anneliese van der Pol, or Vampire Diaries, they look at me like I'm crazy (or as increasingly happens, they confess complete ignorance). I'm reasonably good-looking, I drive a cool car (a gas/electric hybrid), and I have a fairly good salary, but I don't date very often.

One day there was a lot of unusual buzz in the classroom. "What's going on, Angeles?" I asked the girl who seemed to be at the center of all the excitement.

"I'm having a birthday party next Friday, and I was passing out the invitations," she answered. "Here; this one's for you. It's going to be a slumber party."

"Well thank you very much," I said. "How old are you going to be?"

"Eleven."

"Gee, a slumber party," I said. "I have to warn you-I sleep in my underwear."

The girl blushed, but then she laughed. "Silly! The slumber party is just for girls. You boys are invited right after school, but you're supposed to go home at 6:30 or 7, and then we girls are going to put our pajamas on and the real party is going to begin. I'm inviting all the girls in the class, but only the cool boys. You're invited too."

"So I guess that makes me one of the cool boys, huh?" I asked. "I'll do my best to come. Let's see... 113 Willow Lane. Oh yeah, I can find it, but your phone number, just in case? Is this it... 881-4562?"

"That's the home number. Do you want my cell phone number?"

Angeles gave me her cell phone number and added, "If you can't make it at 3 o'clock, that's okay--you can come later. My mom said we can stay up until 12:30!"