I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts

Twenty-four hours later, I drove carefully through the intersection where the horrible accident was, on my way to work again.  Someone had collected the smashed street lights that fell in the street, but glass was still everywhere.

No Pants stared at his notebook.  He had left it unattended.  It read:  "I love Ms. Wagner" in Spanish and in English and was adorned with hearts.  He stared at me.
"I did not write this."
I laughed, knowing that I was the one who had obviously set him up.
"It is TRUE, I do love Ms. Wagner, but I did not write this!".
I have no idea what I will do without him when he moves on to 6th grade next year.

"I WILL NOT get on that big fat spooky, sloppy joe bus!"  Jaquey howled, wagging his finger in the air, hand on hip and butt pushed out.  I chased him down the bus line, ears shattering from the pitch of his voice.
"You told Ms. Warner about the bracelet."
"I had to."
"It's okay, she's not mad.  She just wishes I'd made different choices."

I drove to the convenience store Thursday night, in need of a beer.  I bought my six pack and greeted the guy who works there and proceeded to the parking lot.   As I put the key in the door of Alec's car, a man on a bike called out:

"Don't do it!  High speed chase!".

Within seconds a white-largish car tore by, tire flat and falling off, with a dozen police cars in hot pursuit.  It hung a quick right by the gas station and vanished.  I stood next to the car, shocked.  A minute later, it whipped by the left side of the station, sparks flying off of the wheel and flocked by twice as many police cars and roared into the gas station.  I dumped my six pack and ran with the other people in front of the gas station to the barber shop next door.  We slammed the door and ducked.  The pursued car roared in, nearly missing taking out the front of the gas station and Alec's car.  Fifty-gazillion police roared in at the same time.  I stayed down.  All I could think was that the car would crash into us, or that the police would open fire.

"Why we all hunched down like this..." a low voice finally muttered.
We all stood up and peered out of the window.
"Oh shit, it totally smells like marijuana in here, what if they come in?"  I asked, a little freaked.
"Ain't nobody coming in here, this is private property." someone replied.
"Let's watch!"  I responded.
We stepped out of the barber shop, cell phones raised.

A crazy butch cop was punching the passenger window in of the offending vehicle, with his bare hand.  They dragged a youngish, thin man out of the car who immediately raised his hands over his head.  I kept watching, fearing they would shoot him or beat him.

Dozens more police arrived, Fulton County, Atlanta P.D., State Patrol.  There was even a helicopter with a beam circling above.  A fire truck and a Grady ambulance arrived to treat the cop's hand that punched the window out.

They were fist bumping and chest thumping.  Some wore bullet proof vests.  I walked out to my car and recovered my six-pack.  It was nearly impossible to leave the parking lot because of every type of police vehicle known to man.  I was instructed to make a "three point turn".
"I'm sorry," I responded.
"I don't speak cop-talk".
The officer smiled and guided me out.

"What took you so long?!"  Alec exclaimed upon my return.
"Well, let me tell you, "  I began....

Waning Gibbous

"I love that!" I exclaimed, while admiring Jaquey's bracelet.
"It's the solar system, we made it in class." he explained, while proudly showing me which bead demonstrated the sun, Mercury, Earth and Mars.  Even little Pluto had its place.
"Ms. Warner has extra beads. I'll make you one!".

I hopped into Alec's car, in the dark and rain and made my way down the road to work.  Monday had been crazy with psycho-dad, Tuesday a little sleepy and now, Wednesday morning, I was on the road.  I drove sleepy eyed toward an intersection, trying to grab my coffee cup without looking while the car in front of me passed through the intersection that I was about to enter.  A speeding SUV tore through the red light without even putting on his breaks and plowed into the car in front of me, which in turn slammed into a telephone pole.  The street lights slammed down and crashed on the street while the offending vehicle veered off and over the grass, into a library parking lot.

"911, can you hold please?"
"Yes."
Elevator music.
"Do you need the police or paramedics?"
"Both...I think both....."
"What happened?"
I explained the situation.
"I don't know how this guy could be alive...."
"Let me connect you to the Atlanta P.D."
"Now, let me connect you to the paramedics."
"Is the victim alive?"
"I don't know, he hasn't gotten out of the car."
"The paramedics are on the way.  Please wait with the victim.  Do not attempt to lift him or allow him to take any medications.  Do not attempt a tourniquet...."
"Okay"

As I walked toward the car, a man approached me.
"What was that?!"  he asked.  "I was sleeping and it woke me up!".  I pointed at the car and walked toward it.
A disoriented man wandered in the street.  The front of his car was crushed, windshield shattered and air bag deployed.
"Are you the guy from the car?!"  I asked, incredulous.
"Yes... yes, I was in the car...." he answered calmly.
"This is a county car...a county car.... I was starting to like this one....I need to call my boss....um, can you stay here?"
"Yes, um, are you sure you should be walking around?"
"I'm fine...this is a county car..." he responded.
Another man ran up.
"Holy shit, the other guy is making no sense!"
"I thought he was trying to get away, is he parked by the library?"
"He lost control of the car, the drive train is fucked, he nearly hit me down the street, he was driving without lights on...".
The police and paramedics arrived.  The asked for our statements and the victim asked for my phone number.
"My boss is going to want to know what happened to the car...it's a county car...." he reiterated.
An ambulance from Grady had pulled up.
"Let me check you out" the paramedic said carefully.
"Okay...." the victim responded.
I was relieved.
I told the officials that I was taking off and went to work.  I was nearly forty-five minutes late, but made it to my first class.

I stood in the bus line after school, telling kids not to run who systematically ignored me.  They run like their asses are on fire out of the school.
Jaquey ran up with his hand behind his back.
"I have a surprise for you!"
I screamed and ran.
He chased me and pushed his closed hand out.
Inside was a solar system bracelet.
"Ohhh, thank you!  Ms. Warner let you use the extra beads?"
"She had a SUBSTITUTE today and what she don't know won't hurt her....".

I sat in the Conservatory, exhausted from the day.  I called back the officer that wanted to ask me questions about the accident that I had witnessed that morning.  It was seven o'clock at night.

"Hi, I'm Hilary Wagner, returning your call about the wreck I saw this morning.  Can I ask you a quick question?  The accident was in Fulton County, but you are from Dekalb County.  I don't get it."
"He is one of my undercover officers and thank you Ms. Wagner, thank you for calling me back.  May I record our conversation?".
"Sure".
I explained what I saw.  How the SUV didn't even hit the breaks while tearing through a red light at a four way stop.  That the undercover cop was just going through the same green light I was about to go through.
"What can you tell me about the car that hit him, what more about that car?"
"It shot out of nowhere is all that I can say, didn't even hit the breaks".
"Ms. Wagner, you have my direct line.  I would like you to call me anytime, especially if you can tell me any more details about the car that hit my undercover officer."

"Okay, sure, I will....".

Teacher of the Year

I stood on the corner across the street from the school, my new morning duty post.  I am getting farther and farther away from the actual building.  It is dark in the morning now and often raining.  It's the Loneliest Duty Post in the World.  I have the uncomfortable job of asking people with students not to use the crosswalk, as there is a near fatality every morning, and to instead use the crosswalk up the street that has crossing guards.  I get a lot of side-eye and huffs and puffs.  It is not a pleasant way to start the morning and was obviously not my idea. 

Everyone was predicting an eventful week.  A full moon, inside recess because of rain, all capped by Halloween.  Mondays aren't really my thing.  Nor are early mornings.  I stood in the dark morning drizzle across the street and down the block from the school, trying not to get a migraine from the bright headlights shining straight into my eyes.  A car pulled off and parked on the street to the side of my questionable crosswalk.  A man and child exited.  I walked up tentatively and delivered my apologetic request that they advance to the next crosswalk for reasons of safety.   The man breathed deep and then loudly started telling me off in front of his kid. 

I have noticed that any sentence that starts with "Look" is usually bad.  No one says "Look!  You are an amazing educator that handles an uncomfortable duty station at 7:20 am with such grace, and my, you are good looking!  What are YOU doing in a place like THIS!?".

"Look, this is a public space and I am going to walk my kid up to that school just like I do everyday....." he said loudly, staring down at me.  Oddly, I have never seen his everyday walk across the street, but, whatever.  I've only been standing on that shit-ass corner for three months, at a horrible morning hour, getting pegged in the head by some type of fucking acorn that falls from the trees at a bullet-like speed.  He continued telling me off for several minutes while parents stared at us.  He even accused me of singling him out for my crosswalk intervention.  Bro, no one has time for all of that, least of all me.  I assumed that at some point he would just cross in the goddamned crosswalk, as I obviously don't throw my body in the street to block people.   He finally came up for air and I responded lowly, "Look man, I'm just doing my job" and walked away.  I was surprised when he turned around and walked with his kid to the other crosswalk, leaving his car running and headlights shining on me and the controversial crosswalk. 

I tried not to look flustered as people passed by me.  I thought of an in-class conversation that had occurred recently.  The kids wanted to know how the teacher of the year selections are made.  I told them, and one kid asked me if I was eligible to be teacher of the year even though I am a Spanish teacher and not general ed. 
"Yeah,"  I responded, laughing, "but everyone forgets about us!".
"Except for your students." Emily said quickly.
"Emily, that is one of the nicer things anyone has said to me lately." I responded, seriously touched. 

I realized that psycho-dad was taking forever to get back to his car, whose lights were still shining on me and my offending crosswalk.  As I glanced over, I paused and looked more carefully at the car.  He was sitting in the driver's seat, high beams on me, staring at me.  I nearly screamed.  He remained there, lights on me, staring from the driver's seat for the remaining ten minutes of my duty.  I finally trotted down the sidewalk, jaywalked and cut through the grass to avoid walking in front of his idling car. 

As I re-told the story to my fellow outside duty friends, I was suddenly yanked into my new principal's office. 
"You can't tell people not to use the crosswalk!" she stated, voice raised.
I lost my shit.  Now I was in fucking trouble?
"LOOK!"  I started, "Do you think that this was my idea?  Do you think I want that duty?  I am doing what the other administrator told me to do.  Believe me, I'd be more that happy not to".
She acquiesced.  And I went on to start my real job, already late for my first class.

Little did I know that bizarro-week was just beginning. 

Dream, motherf****r

Mikayla leaned out of the school bus window.
"Ms. Wagner, is this your only job?" she asked, matter of factly.
"Do you go to another one after here?"
"No, Mikayla....I'm lucky...I only have to work at one job at a time...."
She nodded her head as if she was mulling over the concept of an adult that doesn't have to work day and night to survive.
"Mr. Roberts!!!!" another girl screamed, jutting her head through the window.
"Bye!  Bye!" she yelled.
He smiled and waved.
Another head popped out of a window.
"BYE...daddy" the third said with a sneaky smile.
Mr. Robert's eyes widened as the bus pulled away and off to the Housing Authority apartments.

I read the email with a mix of sadness, frustration and extreme pissed-offness.  It was from someone I've been antiquated with through activist stuff.  It referred to your garden variety American Jew as a "Zionist" and was filled with vitriolic nonsense, knee-jerk anti-Semitic nonsense that was intended to school me in some way about the evils of those darn Jews and that my involvement with any of THEM made me one oppressive motherfucker.  I needed a break.  I stood in the shower when again, the metal ring that holds our shower curtain and surrounds our claw foot tub came crashing down around me.  I climbed out, soaking wet while water sprayed everywhere, disguised my nudity and walked into the kitchen.  I smelled electrical burning and noticed smoke, not steam, smoke billowing from the dishwasher.  My phone was beeping with texts saying that both of my co-workers would not be at work tomorrow.  I flipped the breaker and left the room, determined not to enter the back of the house for as long as possible.

I watched the video of a group of our students rapping and dancing around a community pool.  I clicked it again, and again and again and again.  It was infectious, cool, and a song about the joy and ease of making friends.  It is quickly becoming an internet sensation.

I stood on the corner of the autobahn in front of the school at seven-something in the morning, trying to help kids survive the morning Frogger game of dodging cars in the crosswalk.  The mysterious station wagon that is definitely up to something nefarious came wheeling through again, its incredibly wide bulk filling the street, tinted windows raised, red accented rims spinning and both spoilers on the hood raging.  Everyone cleared the street.

My niece turned eighteen on Thursday.  At the stroke of midnight, she met up with a photographer at  an abandoned building and took a series of creative photos to commemorate her birth.  Hours later, she got one of the coolest tattoos I have ever seen.  I have decided whatever I did on my eighteenth birthday was completely lame. 

As I ran into my second favorite beer man while buying some um, beer, I had to comment on how well his sweet, inky-eyed son is doing in Spanish class.
"Awww, thank you!" he responded.
"It will be great to know who his teacher is going to be!"
Uh yeah, the random, six weeks into the year fucked up quitting by his principal teacher.  Awkward.

Something was definitely up with the toilet.  As I struggled over and over again to make it flush, I thought of the other video I saw this week from another extremely talented kid from our school who is already an internet sensation.   It extols the virtues of valuing creativity in a wildly cool way.  It's inspiring, really makes you think that the only thing that is really important in the world is tapping your inner imaginative being and nurturing that instinct in others.

Hands occupied by plunger, my mind's eye pictured the boy's face commanding me to "Dream, motherfucker, dream".
 

Cool Like That

"Now you need a million dollars!" my favorite beer man commented as I bought a 12 pack and a Mega Millions ticket to rein in the beginning of my week long fall break.
"You get two days off A WEEK!  And you are always on vacation!"
"Yeah, I get benefits, too.  And a pension".
"Yes!"
"Don't worry, I'll settle for fifty thousand, doesn't have to be a million" I added, picking up my 12 pack AND my lottery ticket.
"I take you to India when you win.  But be sure to save me some of those beers.  I will be by later".
"It's on.  Don't worry, I've got your back".

I stood in the new snake house at the zoo, staring at the Black Mamba.  I hate snakes, but always go to look at them at zoos where they are safely enclosed behind glass.  Or I hope they are enclosed....whenever I see an empty habitat half of me wonders if the thing just escaped and is slithering around me on the floor.

I've broken up with my family, well at least everyone except my mom.  Or maybe they broke up with me.  I am sure it is the kind of thing that could be argued, like most break ups.  Sometimes it is a relief.  Sometimes I think of the years of traveling together and dinners together and wonder how everything has come to this.  I have a terrible feeling that things have gone beyond fixable.

Alec and I celebrated nineteen years together on the thirteenth.  People find our relationship unconventional because we are not married and we do not own nice furniture.  We have never shown an interest in kids, which I think adds to some belief that we have circumvented adulthood.  Fine by me.  I actually think you cannot get more conservative -  a nineteen year relationship that started when I was twenty-four.  What do people want, high school sweethearts?  I bet Alec was pretty hot in high school.

The weather has started to turn remotely fall like, the sky looking like it did on September 11th, 2001.  It was if Al Queda waited until one of the prettiest early fall days to do their business.   It is my favorite season.  On a whim I set a tent up in the backyard, thinking it would be fun for Lola and I to sleep outside in the cool weather.  I was surprised when Alec wanted to join us.  The three of us climbed in and zipped the door shut, laying outside in the middle of the city.  Just a block away, I imagined the lions and tigers of the zoo sleeping under the same sky.

This is the End

"Adiós amigos...." I chanted to my class.
"Ya, me voy"
"¡Ciao!"
"Ciao, darling!!"  one of my new fourth graders exclaimed, pushing his shoulder forward dramatically and raising his chin.
I might have a keeper.

I stood on the corner of the busy street in front of the school, watching school buses arrive and walkers and bicycle riders navigate the intricate network of crosswalks, attempting not to get killed by speeding motorists.  It is my new duty assignment; no more easy-ass coffee clutch hang out with the kids in the mornings and afternoons, seated on a stairwell landing.
This new shit is war.

"The wood guy thinks we have termites.  The inspector can come Friday afternoon.  Can you meet him?".
"Of course,"  I answered, picturing our house falling into the ground.  

I came home from Madrid almost ten years ago to the day.  There wasn't gas in any of the stations and when I turned on the television, American citizens were trapped on roof tops while a horse trainer appointed by George W. Bush failed to coordinate any type of federal rescue effort after Army maintained levees allowed the seas to wash away one of the best cities on earth. 

I stood, holding the front door of the school open on Open House night.  I sensed someone coming up to me quickly and felt a hug happening and ending.
"Oh hi!"  I said, greeting the wife and daughter of the man that just hugged me.  The man that I made out with once like, twenty odd years ago.
"You are in my class again!".

If I could braid the weeds growing around my house and the dust forming on the inside, I think it might make a neat, apocalyptic landscape.   But if I am too lazy to clean, I am definitely to lazy to braid.

"In, two weeks, I will assume my new position in the Central Office" my principal at school announced.   Great.  One of the only bosses I've had that actually gets me is going on to bigger horizons. 

"You won't believe the crazy letter we got from your stepfather's brother!"  my mom exclaimed.
"The end is near, the rapture is coming, he has done his own algorithmic shit and he says its next month....or on Christmas" she spat out, bursting into laughter.
"We have to accept Jesus in our hearts or else, mark of fucking Satan, it's over!".

A mental picture of dead people in blue track suits wearing brand new Nike high tops flashed through my mind.

"Do you think we should, I don't know, call some type of authorities about this?".

What Happened to Sandra Bland

I can't stop thinking about Sandra Bland.  I wish I could, but I can't and then I feel like a privileged asshole for thinking I should just stop thinking about it.  I read the comments on various newspaper articles about her unwarranted arrest, manhandling, detention and death and I'm shocked.  "Driving while black doesn't exist", "She should have been polite to him", "Cops have hard jobs".   Sandra Bland is dead and none of the shoulda couldas can justify it.    

I have been on the wrong side of men in authority quite a few times, whether it was the police or the Border Patrol or just some guy that assumed authority that he shouldn't have.  It is scary.  I don't think Sandra Bland did anything wrong.  I don't think we should have to bend over and take a foot up the ass because we fear what the police will do, whether it is getting a ticket, sitting on the side of the road for half a day, having charges added, detention, violence or worse.  We should not have to behave slavishly in front of some little Napoleon in order to avoid maltreatment.  But we do it.  I've done it, especially when you see that hair trigger moment and you discover that you're dealing with a maniac.  I saw it in the video of the attack on Sandra Bland.  She answered his questions.  Yeah, she didn't sound like the hostess on the Love Boat, but again....why should she?  She was about to get a ticket for something ridiculous and she's got this needling weasel trying to pick a fight with her.  Damn, she even had the nerve to ask what he was charging her with.  Yeah, she really had it coming.  Here she was thinking that she had rights even though she was a black, female civilian.

I've read the comment "cops dodge bullets for a living" etc., etc., etc.  My question, when Sandra Bland refused to put out a cigarette, did that pig fear for his life?  Did he think 'Man, I am about to get shot!  This woman is a danger to public safety!'?  Fuck no he didn't.  He knew that he was in no danger.  He was pissed off because SHE DID NOT DO WHAT HE SAID.  Why, she was supposed to be licking his balls and thanking him for writing her a ticket!  'No' is not allowed!

I think the thing that makes me the maddest happens at the beginning of the video, believe it or not.  The condescending, provocative little remarks and questions, designed to annoy.  He wanted a fight and he wouldn't stop until he got one.  My favorite part is when she asks him if he feels good about himself and calls him a pussy.  I would have to say that Sandra Bland hit the nail on the head there.  How did he feel about himself in those moments?  Did it feel good to toss this woman around?  Did he feel powerful?  Was it gratifying to 'give her the punishment she deserved'?

There is a book by an artist I like called "How to Commit Suicide in South Africa".  It is a reflection on the large number of prison "suicides" during the apartheid era.  Variations of those words keep running through my mind inadvertently.  How to commit suicide in police custody.   How to kill yourself in a Texas jail. 

I actually don't think what happened to Sandra Bland was completely about race.  I think the police have made it normal to play by their own rules and subjugate the populace.  I think this specific case had a lot to do with misogyny as well.

I fear the police and do not trust them.  If I feel this way, I can only imagine the feelings and experiences of people of color.