I want to have two teleprompters present whenever I speak. I can set them up in my classroom, by my desk. The students won't know what they are. Some will think they are mirrors so I can admire myself. Some will think they are a kind of bulletproof shield to protect me. Some will think they are to keep my spit from flying onto students sitting in the front row. Some will think they block the wind from hitting my microphone which I will not need in my classroom. Very few of them will know that I want my teleprompters because I am an imbecile and I do not know what to say.
My lessons will be written by a paraprofessional, perhaps, or a student-teacher. I won't have to do any of the work. All I have to do is read from my trusty teleprompters. The kids won't know I'm reading someone else's words. They will think I am looking right at them, because they, the students, are the most important thing to a teacher.
My teleprompters will allow me to spout facts like a Jeopardy champ. They will allow me never to be speechless. They will tell me how to answer tough questions, thanks to my Great and Powerful Oz in the next room, valiantly typing my thoughts for me.
I will take my teleprompters to the lunchroom. They can act as shields for any food that The Vegetator decides to fling in the direction of the teacher's table. I can make witty conversation through the fingertips of my Great and Powerful Oz who will be hiding in a giant trashcan.
No need to worry about putting my foot in my mouth during parent conferences. The Great and Powerful Oz will type up politically correct words of wisdom that the parental units want to hear. They will worship me, those parents. Some may even faint.
At the end of the day, I will have two students carry my precious teleprompters to the closet next door. I will be careful not to speak until the last student leaves the room. Then I can return to being a babbling idiot, and say what I really feel.
Ain't technology grand?
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