A few of my favorite things

Two beers down and a parking ticket already in hand, I was running through the Martin Luther King National Historical Site, cross-infested gospel choir robe thrown over my shoulder, toward Ebenezer Baptist Church. Later that evening, I would be on the stage in the historic church, with said robe on my body, in front of nearly two thousand parents and friends of my students.

It had been a long day. After a few short hours of sleep due to an unexpected six hour trek to the detention center the night before, I woke with the devil hisses of Chantix in my ears. I thought about that bus we had seen pull up to the center in the middle of the night as we sped away. The dark bus to nowhere.

I worked like a beast teaching those children all day and found myself running past MLK's tomb in the dark to get to their winter recital on time later that evening. With my robe.

We sing a lot. I try to pick out jazzy numbers for the kids, nothing too high pitched, too obnoxious. Strangely, they play instruments while they sing their little edu-Spanish songs. Fake snare drums. Pianos. Or they they just shake it. They look like the Muppets.

Half way home from the detention center, Michelle gasped and pointed to her jacket. She had walked out wearing the prison visitor badge. I guess I'm glad she noticed it before we went out in public. I carry it in my pocket now. The kids are getting wild, wilder by the day, the closer Christmas comes. I have the urge to bitch at them. When I touch the badge in my pocket, things go into perspective and I don't feel like bitching anymore.

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...." the second grade chimed to the crowd. They were wearing their pajamas. Lashandi sang intently, mouth wide and head bobbing. I loved Lashandi the minute I saw her ride. He pulled up between all the nice cars in the pick up line on a bicycle. Lashandi ran out, jumped on the pegs that stuck out from the back wheel and rode away, standing up, holding firmly onto her dad's shoulders, her fake fur coat flapping in the wind. "I simply remember my favorite things...", Ignacio caught my eye, looking regal in his bathrobe. "And then I don't feeeel sooo baaaaddd" he sang solemnly. I knew I was going to cry again. Shit I was tired.

I woke to the sound of someone punching the pillow or the mattress. I sat up and looked around. Alec was completely asleep. Good morning, Chantix. I'm tired. Really tired. I showed the kids a video about Christmas in Mexico. They really liked the parties with piñatas. "True works of art, made to be destroyed" the boring narrator droned on.

"Made to be destroyed...." several echoed, eyes glowing in the darkness.