Week Two

I could feel my scalp sweating as I sat in a circle on the floor with the third graders.  They sang lazily.  As I scanned the room, a dark little exposed belly caught my eye.  Lashandi sat singing, her tired looking eyes drooping, her shirt carefully folded up to air her stomach in the hot room.  She looked like a little old man.  Possibly a little old non-American man.  I've noticed they will unapologetically sit in public or walk through town with their shirts raised to air their bellies, jiggly old flesh staring out at the world.  I wonder if it works, if airing your stomach really cools you down.  A million old men and Lashandi certainly cannot be wrong.

The temperature crested at eighty-six degrees in my classroom.  A number of folks pushed all the useless buttons on the thermostat just as I had when I walked in that morning and achieved the same result:  It was fucking broken, just like I had said.  Penny reached toward me to hug me as she left the classroom, something she rarely does.  "I'm sorry, honey.  I stink." I told her as she continued to advance.  I could smell the curry I had eaten the night before escaping through my pores.  She smiled knowingly while wagging her head no and hugged me anyway.

It started out innocently enough.  I really felt raggedy one morning.  And it was only the second week of school.  And the air was working again.  I don't know what my problem is.  My first class came in.  "¿Cómo están?" I asked them.  "I haven't been sleeping at night" one responded.  Others nodded.  "My stomach hurts everyday" another added.  "I threw up last night" yet another quipped.  "Why are you all so anxious?" I asked.  They didn't know.  Instead of fighting the mood of the class, I decided to just go with it.  I heard about ear infections, blood, sleeping on the couch because the bed was too uncomfortable.  Oddly, one of the blond devils that has always been difficult for me voluntarily sat next to me, and even let me pat him on the back a couple of times.  David rose his hand.  "In the summer, my dad came in one day and turned off the T.V.  He said he had something serious to tell me".  I was nervous.  I could tell by his face that this might be a big one.  "My step dad died.  He was in the army and had to take medicine to get his head right again after he came home.  One night, everyone was out to dinner and he accidentally took too much of his medicine for his head and he died, because no one was home to help him".  "Is he still dead?" another kid asked.  "Yes," David answered solemnly, "he still is.  It is permanent".

"Oh my God!" their teacher laughed when I told her how we spent Spanish class.  "Yesterday we had a really long discussion about the various ways that they have been spanked!  It's not as awful as it sounds!".  "So....what about Jimmy, never been spanked?" I inquired.  "No," she answered, eyes widening "belt".  "What about Sarah?", "Measuring stick", "And Zach?"  I continued, strangely curious about the various means of corporal punishment. 

"No," she said with a relieved look, "never been spanked".