They only seem to refer to things around them by last names or shortened nicknames such as "MACKLEROY!" or "LET'S PLAY SOME B-BALL!" (etc).
They never lose their voices. They have trained their vocal chords to be strong so they can yell as loudly and for as long as they want. Children are their main prey.
It is obvious that they aren't the brightest people, but you can smell the failure on them. It stinks of sweat, tears, and a useless Masters Degree that's covered in dust in a box under all of the hockey gear in the locker room.
No one grows up saying "I want to be a PE teacher" because even PE teachers don't want to be PE teachers.
They are sad, misunderstood creatures that will forever wallow in their own sadness.
Coach: "DOES! IT! LOOK! LIKE! I! CARE?!"
Carl: "The doctor said that I could die-"
Coach: "YOU GET TWENTY MORE LAPS IF YOU KEEP GIVING ME LIP, BOY!"
Carl: "Please! I'm... Dying... *wheeze*
Coach: "YOU ARE WEAK! GET ON IT! MR MACKLEROY! GO! RUN! WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING IN MY CLASS?! PRETENDING TO PLAY DEAD WON'T GET YOU OUT OF ANYTHING! I WILL PUNT YOUR DEAD BODY ACROSS THE FIELD!"
Steve: "Did you hear about how Carl almost died in gym? He had to be taken to the ER. He was blue in the face and he had a footprint on his side. They think he might become a vegetable."
Bob: "Wow. Our PE teacher is such a big fucking bitch."