Six teaching days remain. So close. Yet so far. It’s June now. We flipped the calendar to June, and it’s a picture of flowers blooming in a garden. Seems appropriate, fertile new life and all that. Summer. Harvest. Renewal. Getting the heck out of dodge.
My fifth period, if it were a symphony, would have sounded like this.
Reading.//lowtalkingmurmurscuffle//AHHH! SHE’S HITTING ME!//**stop it.** whining whimper scuffle…//I’M TRYING TO READ!//cell phone rings. **stop it.** //garbled announcement about a turquoise coupe blocking the loading dock//cortez: that’s my car! james: that’s my car!//SHUDDUP! I’M TRYING TO READ!!!//**stop it.** Reading. Reading. //car announcement//cortez points to self and smiles: that’s my CAR!//lowtalkingmurmurscuffle//knock on the door//SOMEONE AT YOUR DOOR!//sobbing…. SOBbing. SOBBING! //toyia’s crying!!! why she crying!!! she’s ugly!!!//usher toyia out of the room//sobbing, tears, snot, mumbling. //she’s CRYING!//I’M READING!!!//cell phone rings.**stop it.** toyia returns scuffle sniffle. paul writes “ASS PARADE” on the blackboard scratch//swish, wipe it back off.//argue with paul ARGUE WITH PAUL//**read!** Reading. Reading. lowtalkingmurmurscuffle. //BELL.//