I gazed at the bright eyed boy, small for his age, with consistently the cleanest clothes I think I have ever seen. Why he loved the trailer at school was a mystery.
"Why do you love modulars?"
"THEY are good buildings."
"Okay...."
"AND, they can go on a truck."
"And be moved to a new location?"
"YES." he answered definitively, a look of satisfaction on his face for having explained himself fully.
I have nearly completed a Soberuary, or a booze-free January. At times, I feel like the Seinfeld episode when George Costanza gave up sex and became hyper-intelligent. Other times, I feel overstimulated by the extra activities I do in my new-style quest for healthy living.
I stared at a book that leaned against the white board in one of my classes. Its cover had one of those famous Dust Bowl photos of skinny, rugged white people, looking strained. The title, MIGRANT WOMAN, was emblazoned across the front. I wondered why people viewed poor white migrant workers as valiant but poor brown migrant workers as takers.
"Did you show them what child abuse was?" one of my students asked, snickering.
"Don't make me come over there...." I responded, laughing.
"Are you going to turn the car around?"
"Don't make me turn this car around, I'll give you something to cry about...."
"Do you want something to cry about?"
The whole class was laughing. They love my stories about popular, parent sayings from the seventies.
Next, I'd like them to try one of those old metal slides in the summer while wearing shorts.
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