La fuente

We sat in the classroom on our "work day".  Most people think a teacher work day means that we get to catch up on work:  planning, grading, thinking ahead.  But, we had Professional Learning, classes taught by other teachers to help us improve our trade.  It was alright.

During a session, a teacher volunteered to read aloud a section.  He did it in a jokey manner, to entertain us,
obviously we were among friends.  It was funny.
"You sounded like Barry White!" a teacher commented, jovially.
No he didn't.  He sounded like a teacher making a joke.  Just because he was black doesn't mean every voice over is Barry White.

I marched through the Farmer's Market, TWO DAYS before Thanksgiving, as opposed to the day before Thanksgiving nightmare that I have thrust upon myself since assuming the weird adult role of hosting family events at my house, though I have no children, am un-married and have cast aside any other semblance of traditional life except for getting a mortgage.
"Listen, as a person who has to deal with gluten free shit everyday, just pick one"  a side-stander said to his partner.
"I hate the grocery store, I HATE THE GROCERY STORE."  another bystander announced, while strolling through the too-full aisles.

"Frosty the Snowman!  Was alive-ass he could be...."
I checked my ears while staring at Johnny Cash sing Christmas songs on some public access channel, my stomach full of Thanksgiving food.

I stood, staring at kids eating their lunches, while chatting with my fellow teacher at large, who also had lunch duty.
"Hey man!"  a fellow teacher announced to my paisano.
"Where did you get that jacket?!"
"The place where I work during the holidays, I get a discount." he answered.
"Hook a brother up!"  the new teacher announced.
It was cute.  Call the black teacher "brother".  I love it.  Ingratiate yourself.  Bruh.

I drive between my school and the Housing Authority, where I work after school, three days a week.  I cut through the fancy neighborhood, trying to make it on time, often while eating a snack because I am starving.

I noticed a boy, tossing a football with his dad in the front yard.  His face filled with a huge smile, every time they passed the ball back and forth.  Just that simple act.

I watched Anna, in my class during the last period of the day.  She read the lines she was supposed to read for her skit, and her face spread with a smile and excitement for what she was doing.

Their capacity for joy fills me with wonder and envy.