Bryan Buffkin
Bio
Bryan Buffkin is a high school English teacher, a football and wrestling coach, and an aspiring author from the beautiful state of South Carolina. His writing focuses on humorous observational musings and inspirational fiction.
Stories (50)
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School in the Time of Quarantine
I’ve been an English teacher in the state of South Carolina for the last seventeen years. For the most part, it's been a joy and a pleasure. We’re all aware of the stigma that southern schools have and some of the difficulties we face with the wide variety of ranges between student types, races, religions, socioeconomic statuses, and the like. But as an English teacher and a coach, I’ve had the privilege of experiencing the wide variety of students that each part of the state offers. I’ve taught at giant metropolitan schools in the city. I’ve taught at rough, urban schools, where kids get to school through back alleyways to avoid gangs huddled on street corners. I’ve taught at rural schools where students come to class in the morning having woken up at dawn to feed the chickens. I’ve taught at tiny schools in the middle of nowhere that were 97% African-American. I’ve taught at tiny country schools that were 97% Caucasian. I’ve taught the gamut of students that the great state of South Carolina has to offer, and undoubtedly, I’ve enjoyed it. There have been struggles, but I love the teenagers I teach, I love the teachers and administration I work with, and despite all the horror stories you hear in the media, I enjoy being a teacher.
By Bryan Buffkinabout a year ago in Photography
More Important Than the Game
Late August, first football game of the regular season. We’re at Carvers Bay, a district rival and a team out for blood. It was my first year as an offensive coordinator here at this lovely school, and this game had a lot of emotional weight on it. My kids were ready, pumped, and the last thing I could show was any sign of doubt. As the opposing coaches stared daggers through us, I looked up and down my sideline at my players’ faces, all lined up, arms locked together, watching the captains slowly march to midfield for the coin toss.
By Bryan Buffkinabout a year ago in Motivation
Big Game Tonight. Top Story - September 2024.
I couldn’t sleep last night. Haven’t slept well in a minute, to be honest. At three in the morning, I opted to give up staring at the cracks in the ceiling to instead stare at my laptop screen and the mounds of opened and unopened white envelopes spread like dying angels’ wings across my kitchen table. I can hear my husband sleeping like a fat baby in the other room, the sounds of his snoring reverberating through the thin apartment walls. I imagine little waves in my black coffee rippling through every guttural breath that comes out of him, and I form the outline of what should have been a smirk on the corner of my lips.
By Bryan Buffkinabout a year ago in Fiction
Stupid Darren
Stupid Darren. Dude will never find me. It’s dark, cold, and I’m covered in Cheetos dust down here. Geez, brother. You just HAD to take me off while you were playing video games and eating snacks. On the couch. Onto a coffee table that you smack every single time some nine-year-old in Taiwan no-scopes you from clear across the map, you swearing through gritted teeth so you don’t wake up your napping wife and 7-month old in the next room. I can hear you now, frantically looking everywhere, your hand searching through seat cushions covered in your loose hair, sweat, and food stains trying to find me. You better hope you do before she wakes up and…
By Bryan Buffkin2 years ago in Fiction
Run it Back
I hate making New Years’ declarations, mostly because I can’t imagine a worse way of starting the new year than immediately breaking a promise you made to yourself. “30 minutes of cardio every day”, right? Yeah, I caught a charliehorse in the back of my left thigh getting off the toilet this morning, so that elliptical is getting a little dusty today. And now I’m sad, because I made this big to-do about “getting healthier” and “identifying my waistline” and here I am, in the drive-thru at Dairy Queen, paying in cash so my wife doesn’t judge me as she checks the credit card statement yet again.
By Bryan Buffkin2 years ago in Writers
Buff Daddy
“Buffkin!!!” My coach screamed my name as I walked out of the locker room, helmet in-hand, jogging steadily to the practice field. He wasn’t angry; because I was a middle schooler who happened to play with the high school team, it was normal for me to be late coming to practice each day. It wasn’t that I was some superstar middle schooler playing with the big boys. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Up until this point, I had been a disappointment; I was called up to the big leagues only because I was thirteen, 6’4”, and already pushing three spins. But I was soft, both in body and temperament. And it didn’t help that every day was catch-up, trying to stretch, warm-up, and absorb whatever drill or technique the coach was already teaching all at the same time. This day was just as confusing, as all the players were lined up in a giant circle, with Coach standing in the middle.
By Bryan Buffkin2 years ago in Humans
Chicken Parm and Chick Flicks. Runner-Up in Nourished Challenge.
So, my wife of sixteen years and I met in college. She was a cute little brunette Accounting major by the name of Anna. We had started dating in the fall before, but now it was February, and readily approaching was our first Valentine's Day together as a couple. For me, it was not really that big of a deal, but for her? She had just casually informed me that I was her first ever boyfriend, her first actual relationship.
By Bryan Buffkin2 years ago in Feast
