There I was, sitting in my homeroom, trying to see how quickly I could write “Becky Rules” on my desk without being caught, when the teacher said, “Now kids, it’s time for us to meet our new teacher. It’s Officer Malone!”
We were enchanted. A real cop. In OUR presence! Not arresting us or even asking who had spray painted “STC Suckz!” on the playground (it was Jimmy).
“Welcome to DARE!”
(cool, I thought, DARE sounds awfully kicky! Like a superhero or something)
“Do you know what DARE stands for?” he continued.
(no, no I didn’t.)
“Drug Abuse Resistance Education!”
(well, I thought. That sounds RIDICULOUS. That barely even makes sense)
I opened my mouth to tell him so when I realized he could probably arrest me for insubordination. I shut my mouth and tried not to roll my eyes.
“From now on, we’ll have this box,” he gestured to a box in front of him. “To allow you to anonymously report any suspicious activity you’ve seen.”
(Wait a minute, I thought. Now we’re narcs?*)
We went on to learn about drugs. I was, for the first time in years, fascinated. You mean these drugs CAN MAKE ME SEE SHIT THAT’S NOT THERE? COLOR ME IN!
Week after blissful week, we learned about drugs and their effects. For the first time ever, I took judicious notes.
I can successfully attribute DARE to what I like to call “The Lost Girl Years.” Because who DOESN’T want to see shit that’s not there? Or feel blissfully happy? Or SEE SHIT THAT’S NOT THERE? Jesus wept.
I learned later that they disbanded DARE because a) it didn’t work and 2) it made a fuckton of kids (including Your Aunt Becky) WANT to do drugs.
This is why I was surprised when my son brought home paperwork from The New DARE which is called something like, “We’re Not DARE,” or “DARE V2.o,” or “We’re SO Not DARE, Please Don’t Cut Our Funding.”
I wonder how long The New Dare will be a part of the curriculum before it’s proved to cause a new generation of kids to snort toilet bowl cleaner or linked to zoophilia or something.
And I can only hope that my kid doesn’t try to turn me in for gratuitous overuse of the word “fuck.” Because I would be SO busted. Because really, who wants their kid to become a narc?
Answer: NOT ME.
*My parents were hippies. I knew what a narc was before I could shit in the toilet.