They got me good

Some readers who know me well know that I can tolerate a lot. I think this is because of my six-month sentence at the Hampshire Country School in Rindge, New Hampshire. One of my colleagues, the social studies department, said that Rindge was not the end of the world but that you could see it from there. Anyway, the students and general situation frustrated and challenged me daily, and I now I can handle a lot of things as a result.

However, there are a few things in this world that I loathe. Can't stand 'em. Bigots. Liars. Whiners. People who act dumber than they are.

I also loathe some things: Lying. NASCAR. Stout beer.

But I absolutely loathe the font Comic Sans. Though it may be disguised as another name on your particular computer, it lurks there, tempting all sorts of people into using it. With its casual lines, nondescript appeal, it seems so cute, so innocent. The fact is, it's u-g-l-y. And I have banned it from all publishing with which I am associated. I even stopped reading memos from the school office formatted in Comic Sans. And all my students know better than to try to submit work in this damned font. The newspaper kids and I have even talked about the use of the font in the paper, and I always won the battles.

And I'm not the only one who hates it, either. Read this fantastic essay that captures why many of the enlightened ones simply detest this typeface. Take a look at the Ban Comic Sans Web site.

So, having laid the foundation for my loathing, the newspaper editor slipped one past me. He switched the font for the folio of one page of the final issue last week from a beautiful Officina Serif Bold to the loathsome Comic Sans. I proofed that page at least twice, on screen and on paper. The last proofing, I had no idea something was up even though every editor had gathered around my desk, watching and laughing. I honestly thought the kids were just feeling the bonding of the moment.

So when the paper was published June 8, the editor says to me simply: "I won." My eyes widened, and I knew instantly what he meant. I searched the pages, and I found it. There, screaming at me, taunting me, was the word "FEATURES" in a portly, limp font. I crumpled to the floor and everyone around erupted in laughter. I conceded that the editor had, indeed, pulled one on me, and an innocent good one at that. I later asked how many students in the class knew about this prior to it being printed and nearly all the 22 hands went up. It was a conspiracy.

Yes, they got me. I'll get them back when I delete the font from the computers over the summer. Heh heh heh.

-- Wenatchee, Wash.