I had finished with my classes
And I was broke indeed
When a letter came in the mail
And I started in to read.

Could you coach basketball and teach?
We offer 45 hundred to begin
To be offered a renewal
All you have to do is win.

This is cattle country
We wear cowboy hats, no cap.
Our village is a little small
You’ll not find it on the map.

Job offers over 4 grand
Were few and far between
I’ll pack my spurs and saddle
And hit the cowboy scene.

So along with my friend Charlie
With his piercings and tattoos
We headed west on 94
We had no time to lose

As we drove out to my meeting
I wondered what to wear
My suit? A tie?
And what about my hair?

For an important interview like this
I can’t be all uptight.
A little light refreshment
And I’ll be ready for the fight.

We stopped at the Buckhorn bar
And downed a couple of Buds.
The restrooms were confusing
Were we mares or were we studs?

We asked the man behind the bar
He was a grizzled sort
Used to be a cowboy
And he answered with a snort.

He looked at Charlie’s jewelry
With rings in nose and ears
He looks more like a gelding
Now pay me for your beers.

The board was made up of 3 men
Women weren’t allowed to vote
All three were wearing overalls
Beneath their sheepskin coats.

I gave each one a copy
Of my brand new master’s thesis
Then I noticed that the president’s jeans
Were flaked with cattle feces.

The man next to the president
Was a sour-faced cowpoke
I tried to lighten up the group
But he didn’t like my joke.

The third wore a letter sweater
From the class of 41
He said he’d tell me who to play
And started with his son.

“We canned our English teacher
Of her I’m glad we’re rid
She talked about this Shakespeare guy
But she couldn’t learn my kid.”

“What’s yer little book about?”
Old speckled pants leaned in and said,
“It sure don’t look like nothin’
You’d want to read in bed.”

“It’s a complex statistical analysis
Of the mathematical theory of runs
With each one represented
By zeroes and by ones.”

“We need runs in basketball”
Said the class of 41.
“If you want to score a bunch of points
Just give it to my son.”.

“Got a heifer with the runs”,
The sour-faced cowpoke said,
“Can yer book help me cure her
Before she drops stone dead?”

“We really don’t care about yer book
That don’t mean a hill of beans.
We need to know if you can teach ‘em up’”,
Said the one with the speckled jeans.

“How about one of Euclid’s Theorems?”
I thought I’d go for broke.
“Is that the earth-mover guy?”
Asked the sour-faced cowpoke.

They brought out a blackboard
And a little piece of chalk
I drew a pair of parallel lines
And started in to talk.

Old Red Eye furrowed his brow
And began to shake his head.
Obviously he didn’t agree
With something that I said.

Then he spoke up and said,
“That last thing just ain’t right”
“Bring it one,” I thought
I was ready for a fight.

“You’ll have to make a different ‘z’
Too much like old Festus’ brand.
He tried to steal my cattle
Before I ran him off my land.

The group decided that my talk
Was neither good nor poor
They said they’d offer me the job
If I ditched the walking jewelry store.

For 20 a month I could rent a house
Down next to Texas Slim
The outhouse had a brand new hole
And I could shower in the gym.

I explained the deal to Charlie
He didn’t even make a fuss
Cause he had found a tattoo parlor
That did the Theorem of Pythagoras.

I didn’t get a contract
No one signed on the dotted line
Instead they passed the Red Eye around
And everyone felt just fine.

The first day’s lecture problem
I had spent time thinking through
The only question that they had
Was, “Does x always equal 2?”

The Algebra class flourished
And by the time that we were through
They were adding three digit numbers
Instead of last year’s two.

In geometry we cut all kinds of shapes
No papers I collected
But when May rolled around
Old Euclid had been neglected.

No child was left behind
Mediocrity was the norm
We couldn’t assess to improve curriculum
Since Jim Ham had not yet been born.

Old 41’s son turned out to be
An awful basketball player
It’s no wonder that his vocational test
Suggested he be a brick layer.

Three early season losses
And an escape from an angry mob
Were followed by enough wins
To barely keep my job.

Our cheerleader uniforms were tacky
They purchased them from Sears
Had the school nickname, “Hawks”
Embroidered across their rears.

Their leaders were the Benson girls
They were a husky pair
We could have been the Saber Toothed Tigers
And still had room to spare.

I thought when I signed on to teach
That nine months I could endure
But when the term was over
I stayed for 3 years more.

I never got rich by teaching
But for the money I really don’t care
My reward is watching students succeed
And knowing I helped get them there.