Nobody Knows It

Mornings are weird.
I drive to an area I am still unfamiliar with, in the dark, setting the cruise control so that I will arrive on time.  I put on makeup at strategic stoplights.  And chap stick.  And eye drops.  And I clean my glasses.  I gather my shit and recheck several times that I have not left the keys in the car before locking it.  For some reason, my fork keeps flying out of a hole in my lunch box and I have had to drag it out from under the car.  Then, I run in the front door to arrive at my 7:00AM start time, dodging cars and buses to get into the school.  I go directly to duty in the Media Center.  After, I walk to the trailer in the dark, behind the school.  I leave the door open until I turn the lights on and make sure a murderer isn't in there, then close it and turn on the heat or air, whichever is necessary.  I unpack my things, including jugs of water from home and coffee, and have a seat.  I usually am not quite ready to work, so I read the newspaper while I eat a hard boiled, slaughter-free egg with Valentina hot sauce and a Wasa cracker and drink my black coffee.  Sometimes, I take some water from my thermos and mix it with Emergen-C.

I sort of like my routine until the announcements come on.  They blare through the intercom that only seems to work for the announcements, but not for tornado, fire or intruder drills.  Our librarian instructs us to stand and face a flag for the pledge and after, a horrible, pre-canned most-awful shrill version of the national anthem blares through the intercom.  I sit and eat my egg under the fluorescent lights of the trailer and imagine someone watching me, wondering which alternative universe I live in.  This strange woman, sitting in a strange place, with strange music playing, in the dark.  Is it hell?  Has she been sent to hell?

I stood at my post in the cafeteria, watching the kids eat.  The instrumental version of "Sexual Healing" played loudly.  The kids are not allowed to speak while the music is on.

"I wonder which is farther away from here, South Africa or Burma...." I pondered, as I walked with some of my students to the trailer.
"But I'm not from Burma, I'm from Thailand." Prem responded, yanking on the trailer door.
"But your family is really from Burma, right?  And you just spent some time in Thailand....?"  I asked carefully, trying to figure out how to mention a refugee camp in a casual way.
"Yes.  They were murdering Karen." he responded, swinging the door open and shooting inside.

"Don't go breakin' my heart!"  we sang, showing off our best dance moves.
"I couldn't if I tried!"  Faba continued.
Juan and Prem didn't know the words as well as Faba and me, but they still danced furiously around the trailer, screaming out "Wooooo hoo!" at all the appropriate parts.
Halloween always makes a day feel good.

*Lyrics, Elton John

J