Super Blood Wolf Moon

"Faggot!  I think I can spell faggot!"  Tyrone announced during our weekly Scrabble game.
"Don't say that.  It's bad, it's not an okay thing to say...." I answered, trying to control my anger.
"But Neva spelled 'raping' last week!" he responded, genuinely confused.
"Rape is a bad thing, but it's not a derogatory statement."
He looked confused.  I knew 'derogatory' was a word he wouldn't understand, I just couldn't think of another.
"The word you said...faggot... " I whispered,  "is not just another way of saying gay.  It's like an insult for being gay...." I continued, watching his face get more confused.
"I don't want to use this analogy....but, it's like the difference between saying someone is African American or Black and using the N word to describe them." I said, worried and watching his face closely.  I saw recognition.
"Okay, I get it now." he answered.
I was relieved when he smiled and started reshuffling his letters.

I walked into the public safety office after signing a contract for the rest of the school year.
"Welcome back to the county!"  the woman at the desk announced.
"We are so glad you're here.  We need experienced teachers.  Our kids need you."
"Thank you.  Thank you for saying that." I responded, genuinely touched by her statement.

"So, here's your desk...." the principal stated, showing me an old empty desk in the corner of the computer lab.
"You get a laptop because there isn't a desktop in here...." she continued, handing me a Chromebook.
"And here's a roster of your students.  So, walk around, explore, meet your students.  You have all day!"

I organized the few things I had brought with me inside of the empty desk.  I made lists.  I felt oddly like George Costanza in the episode where he shows up for a job he wasn't actually hired for and ends up sitting in an empty office, pretending to work because he has no idea what to do.  I looked across the room at the substitute teacher occupying the other teacher desk.  He was sleeping.

I met the students, one by one.  They were from Mexico, Thailand, Burma, Cambodia, Haiti...some just said 'Africa' and didn't know which country their parents were from.
I knelt down and spoke quietly to the little kindergartener.
"Hi, I'm Ms. Wagner.  I'm the new Mr. Creedy.  I'll be working with you like he did."
The little boy stared at me shyly.  I asked him questions about his family, about his classes.  Finally, I wished him a happy Friday and a great weekend.

"You're welcome." he said, instead of 'thank you', smiled and walked back into his classroom.