"Why I act the way I do? 'Cuz I got a teacher like you. Put that in your head. Fuck you". Ah, always a pleasure working with certain students. This kid's parents abandoned him. Hmmm. I wonder why. I would definitely leave him out on the rocks to die if I hatched such a piece of shit.
"Who are you?" I asked the two men in safety vests standing next to my house.
"We survey land" one of them answered with a Russian accent.
Funny, then why were they on my land?
"Alright, one at a time" I instructed. I knew they were not going to let it go until I let them explain what happened.
"Ms. T flipped out yesterday! Something was wrong. It's medical. We tried to help".
"Wait, wait, wait, one at a time". I know Ms. T relatively well. I know she has medical issues.
"She wouldn't let us leave school. When we tried to get her her medicine, she started yelling at us. At first we thought it was a joke. Then we thought it was a test. And then, we got scared....".
I felt a sick feeling in my stomach.
"Who do you work for, the City or the architect?" I asked.
"We don't know. What are they trying to put on this land?"
"A house" I answered.
"Where? There is no room. This is horrible job. We been out here three days. We want to go home".
"Let me know if I can help" I answered, assuming it was better to be helpful than contentious.
"I have to say that I don't appreciate that the two of you were laughing during the Trey situation. It eggs him on. Imagine if you had someone insulting you in front of a room full of people and others sat and laughed".
I had kicked the kid out of the classroom after an extended yelling exchange and was pretty fucking pissed at some of the peanut gallery. I was surprised when it looked like they were thinking.
"Really...I was laughing because he is just so... stupid...." one of the responded slowly.
"Can we please have the fun day you promised, before all that happened?" the other asked. He is a large, African-American kid on an elementary reading level.
"The rest of us are having the fun day, because everyone else in the class didn't egg him on. You did. You are getting poop work. The most boring thing I can find in my bag".
My bag. I float between two schools, nine classrooms and a separate office that has a nothing but a table in it that I share with another teacher. My laptop, speakers, activities, Expo markers and everything else I might need to teach all over the world is in that bag. It gets heavy sometimes.
"She kept saying the same words over and over again, but wasn't finishing the sentences. Then she started doing weird body moves, like karate".
"It was almost three o'clock. No one knew we were still in here".
"We started crying".
"Man, I was bawling" another boy added.
"Mr. Frank and Ms. Jones saved us".
"The buses were leaving. I was running between them, trying to get them to stop but they left..."
"I sprinted home. If I am not home by three my mom gets scared. I won't be allowed to walk to school anymore".
"They tried to call my parents and warn them. But they called the wrong number. They called my PARENTS. I live with my grandparents. When I finally got out to the car, they had already gone home and gotten the shotgun. It was in the backseat".
"Sandy Hook" one of the kids added. Yes, Sandy Hook. And the school that had a shooting two miles away a couple of weeks ago. I felt like crying.
I had finished the end of my movie when I saw the Russians outside again. It was late, I thought they had left. I went outside. They had flashlights and surveying equipment and were shooting beams across the weeded area where a house will be.
"Would you like a beer?" I asked them.
They smiled and declined.
"We have it!" they announced.
I watched some more television. Lola jumped up about an hour later and ran toward the front porch. I followed her and saw the Russians on my front porch, measuring my doorway. The jumped off and ran when they saw Lola. Orange tape and rebar marked the other side of our lot that has nothing to do with the new construction.
What the fuck?
"I'll let you play on one condition. DON'T be buttholes".
The whole class started laughing, including the two offenders.
"Yeah, don't be buttholes!" another kid shrieked at them.
I started the Puerto Rican rap music and passed out the Bingo cards. Kids started shaking it. The elementary reader did a funny head tilting dance. Others did a pencil drum to the beat.
The vibe was right again and all was good in the world.
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