And Many More

"I got three questions from my students today."  a fellow teacher announced as she entered our mandated professional development session.
"How old is glass, were you alive during slavery and can time move backwards."  she continued, plunking herself in a chair.  

I snickered to myself.

"Why we here......?" she whispered lowly, looking at me from the corner of her eye.  

I hovered around the vegetable section trying to get a bell pepper while some bougie lady tried to transform the guy stocking the shelves into her personal shopper.  

Well I need blah blah and blah blah and blah blah for a recipe and I just don't see it!

That means it's not here....I found myself mentally answering.  That means you might have to go to another store.  That means you might not make that recipe.  The stocker may not know a substitute, but I bet Google does...

"Why don't you wear a mask?"  the stocker asked the woman with what appeared to be genuine curiosity instead of antagonism.

"There is no longer a mask mandate in the city."  she responded brightly.

"Besides, everyone wants to see my smile!"

"I DON'T!"  I blurted out.

"I'm with you."  another stocker seconded, giving me a nod and trucking her huge cart of vegetables down the aisle.  

I drove home with my bougie groceries, glad I didn't end up in the newspaper for getting in a mask-fight because I can't control my tongue.  I approached a huge intersection when I saw something lying in the road.  It was a person.  I glanced around furtively, looking for emergency vehicles, assuming someone had been hit by a car.  I crept forward on the green light, then stopped.   Cars whirred around me, some honking.  There were no emergency vehicles.  The person was curled up like a little cat, sleeping.  Cars continued whizzing past, many with Christmas trees on top.  I sat, frozen, while people honked and tore around me.  I inadvertently covered my eyes, knowing the person was about to be run over.  

Suddenly, another car screeched to a halt and a bleach-blond woman emerged wearing high heels and a longish gold embroidered coat.  She walked authoritatively through the congested intersection, throwing her hand up whenever cars advanced toward her.  She woke the person in the intersection, imploring them to get up before they got killed.  She got the person on their feet and slowly advanced them through the passing cars toward the sidewalk.  I again covered my eyes, as speeding cars missed them by inches.  They made it to the sidewalk and the blond woman moved her car to the side, exited and continued talking to the person she had just saved from the intersection.  I drove home.  

I walked up the hill with the students on the last day of school before winter break.  

"You fat!"  one yelled at another.

"You're fatter than me!"  she responded.

"FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  another screamed from the front steps of her house.

Some of the kids gave us the finger from the passing school buses.

"Bye everyone, be careful going home and have a great break."  I responded and walked back down the hill to the school.  

On Our Way Home

"Level 2 lockdown."

I gripped Ku's hand tighter.

"Adrian, come with us."  I said sternly.  

He continued washing his hands.

"ADRIAN.  NOW."  I commanded.  

Level 2.  Possible threat INSIDE the building.   Get inside a classroom and lock the door and don't leave.  Continue teaching.  

We sprinted down the hallway while Ms. Porter swung the door open, ushering us in.  

I've had the creeps a lot lately.  There is a wild feel in the air, a feral, bad feel of violence.  You see it when you drive.  People flipping out, yelling at each other, swerving around, disproportionate reactions.  Threatening to shoot.  

I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and think of the woman who was murdered with her dog in Piedmont Park.  We live next to a large park.  We have a dog.  I am a woman.  I try to quiet my mind but it doesn't always work.  When I leave in the morning, I walk through my backyard in the pre-dawn hours to our car that we park behind the house.  I've been more aware of my surroundings, noticing when I hear a crinkle of leaves or people outside of the fence.  It is early.  No one should really be out there.  If they are, I like to know that they are there before they know that I am there.  

"The suspect shot two police deputies while they attempted to serve a warrant for murder.  There is a manhunt.  Police have closed down a section of Covington Highway and are walking through the street with rifles."

I looked at the message that Alec texted with the local news article. 

"I think this is why you are on lockdown."

Our school was listed with the other schools in the Covington Highway area that were also locked down.  

"We have been cleared to continue with dismissal.  Wagner, you will take your walkers up the hill and to the neighborhood as you usually do.  One of the police will flank you."

We assembled the walkers' line inside of the building, instead of outside of the building as we normally do.  My group is huge; at least thirty children stood in front of me.  Ku stood next to me, gripping my hand, even though he doesn't walk with me.

"Sit here, baby,"  I instructed, putting him across the hallway next to the door.  

"Don't move.  I'll be back."

"Let's go." I told the rest.  

We trudged up the hill through the woods.  

I had gotten in trouble for going outside earlier in the day to get my lunch from the trailer.  Now, I was walking with thirty kids through the neighborhood.  It turns out the suspect was killed by police as we lined the children up.  

I crept through the backyard this morning, in the dark.  I opened the gate and saw the back window of the car, open.

Open?

I saw the glass glimmering on the driveway in front of the broken window.  

I turned, rushed back inside and locked the door.  

*Title, Lennon-McCartney

Zebulon

"STOP!  Let go!"  Htoo yelled, trying to get out of Albinus' forced hug.

All of my students are sick of Albinus.  He hits and kicks everyone for no reason.  It pisses me off.

"I won't hurt you!  I won't hit you!" Albinus pleaded, all while continuing his rape hug.

"Let go!  Albinus, when someone says they don't want a hug, you have to respect that."  I instructed.

Htoo wrangled himself from Albinus' grasp, his face contorted in anger and frustration.

"I don't....I don't.....like you." he sputtered slowly, his face turning from anger to sadness.

Htoo is one of the friendliest children I teach.  I felt angry with Albinus and his stupid parents for making Htoo even experience these negative feelings that were so contrary to his normal disposition.  

Mya and I opened a new tab during the boring Social Studies lesson.  I typed Aung San Suu Kyi's name into the browser so that Mya could see the latest news on her trial.  

"My parents said Karen people put her in jail."  Mya whispered.

It felt like a punch.  I had hoped that when the various ethnicities left Thailand and Myanmar and came to the U.S. as refugees that they had left their hatred of each other behind, but they clearly brought the same old bullshit with them.  

It's not her fault.  It's not her fault.  I made myself think, over and over again.

Her parents are teaching her this stupid shit.   You have to question it out of her.

I love Mya.  It honestly pains me that she could feel that way toward the Karen people.  I worry what she thinks of some the students I work with everyday.

"Hilary, we received horrible news last night....."  the text from my sister read.  It came through early in the morning on the day after Halloween.

"Mike is dead.  He died last night."

He was thirty-three years old.  

He was fun, someone you always liked running into.  I remember years ago when my sister was getting rid of Emma's trampoline because she had outgrown it. 

"Oh my god!  I want it!" he exclaimed instantaneously, eyes wide with happiness. 

He would tell us about his dance parties, girls he liked and tried to hook up with, and how he bought one of his ladies flowers on the way out of work one day and got himself some tulips too, because they were on sale.    

"Bueno, Sra. Martínez, lo siento pero.....algo pasó hoy en la escuela.....um, un alumno orinó sobre la botella de agua de Mauricio.  Y pues, lo hizo a propósito....."

I hated the phone call.  CAN SOMEONE ELSE IN THE SCHOOL HANDLE THE SPANISH LANGUAGE WITH PARENTS?????????  The last time, I had to tell a parent in Spanish that we lost her kid during dismissal and didn't know where he was.  Now telling a parent of one of my students that a kid deliberately pissed on something of his was not a conversation I wanted to have.  

She burst out crying.

"Mauricio tiene miedo, tiene miedo todos los días.....quería que esta escuela fuera buena.....se tira sus cosas en la basura....se le roba...."

My palms itched with an overwhelming desire to beat some ass.  

"I was with my mom at Wal-Mart."  Femke started.

"We saw this guy out front, you know, one of the guys, and he asked us for money.  My mom went inside, bought a loaf of bread and what are those things called that you sleep in?" she asked, positioning her hands like a triangle

"A tent."  I responded.

"Yeah, a tent.  She gave him the stuff and said next time you see me here, you come to the car."

I pictured her mother.  A Rwandan woman with ten kids that barely speaks English and lives in poverty herself.  

Next time you see me, you come to the car.  

"Children....."  the intercom instructed, "if you see Miss Henrietta in the cafeteria, be sure to tell her happy birthday!"  

One of the general ed. first graders motioned to me to come over.

"Is she the old girl in the cafeteria?"  she whispered inquisitively.  

"Friends, let's all gather to do a drive-by of Ms. M's house on Friday.  We have the day off because the Braves won the World Series."  the text explained.

Ms. M is one of the nicer co-workers I have.   My first year at the school, people kept saying she had cancer.  I never wanted to ask her the details, but assumed she was in remission the following years.  At the beginning of this year, she took an extended leave for what I heard was a standard "procedure".  I had noticed it was taking longer than six weeks and was alarmed when the drive-by parade message came through.  

I got up the next morning and shortly before the drive-by was to begin, another text came through.

"She passed in the night."  it read.

She was thirty-seven years old.  

I remembered the way we used to greet each other.

"Here comes trouble."  I'd say.

"That right, Ms. Wagner, nothing but trouble."  she'd answer, putting a tough look on her sweet face.  

We drove to south Georgia on the Sunday after Ms. M's death for Mike's memorial.  He came from a small town of a little over a thousand people.  I really felt like they shouldn't have just counted him as one person, but more like two or three.  People say that memorials provide closure but the sight of his bike, suffering family and the small urn that held his remains inadvertently felt more like ripping the scab off of a barely healed wound.  

"Good morning!"  I greeted my kindergartners, carefully keeping one eye on Albinus in case he started hitting and grasping Ku by the hand so he wouldn't run off.  

"I'm moving!"  Htoo announced.

"No.  What?  When?"  I responded.

"Friday is my last day.  We are moving to a small house and I will go to big school."  he continued, excited.  

"I'm happy for you."  I responded.

I was lying.  I wasn't happy.  I wanted him here.  Here with me.  

Mrs. Fresh

I watched a couple of older kids chasing around my first grade boyfriend as we walked up the hill away from the school.  He ripped his mask down, exposing his missing front teeth and low hanging canines and gave them the finger.

Paw Ku has been selling toys that she doesn't want anymore to other kids on the bus.  It worries me, she could get in trouble for that.  She speaks of kids ripping her off that she won't sell to again, like an old hand of trading and selling.  They are making her go to morning tutorial instead of coming to the trailer for homework help, because she is a matter of points between one level and the next on a test that helps the school's CCRPI score.  Ku doesn't have to go, nor does Angel or Alberto, because they are nowhere near hitting a score point that would help the school, even though they are grades below reading level.  

She opened her bag and I saw a mountain of those push things that all the kids like now.  She opened an outer pocket of her backpack and a bunch of ones were in there.
"Paw Ku, don't open that pocket again with kids around, they will see it and steal it."  I instructed.
"Yeah, I forgot it was there.  But I want to give some money to that breast cancer thing the school is doing."  she answered.

"Do you want to give them a dollar?"  I asked.
"Nah.  I want to give them two."  she responded.
"Okay, get out two and hold it in your hand until you see the donation can, but close that pocket on your book bag."

"Okay." she responded, and she and Kaw ran through the outside, early morning twilight and banged on the door to get inside the school.  

Our nurse at school died.  My favorite memory of her was every morning when I came to our mutual duty station she would call me Ms. Warner, and tell me that she wanted to go home.  They had a ceremony for her in front of the school last week.  I was interpreting RTI meetings all day, which is not my strong point.  My Spanish sounded like Frankenstein.  And, I am not familiar with this horrific vocabulary of telling families that I love that their children are in the tenth percentile in reading and that their teachers hate them and think they are lazy.  I ran to my car to drive to the Housing Authority.  I saw the staff out front, celebrating a woman that I really liked.

I got in our car, slunk down in the seat and drove away.  Through the bus line.  

My Beautiful Self

"Who can define 'odor'?"  Ms. Powell asked for the fifth day in a row.
"That be somethin' stanky."  my new, first grade boyfriend answered, smiling with satisfaction.  

"RIGHT!!!!  That's right!!!!"  she howled.  

"Ms. Powell, how old are you?"  another kid asked.

"Me, well I am 102 years old, but next week, I will be 103."  she answered with smile.  

My little boyfriend turned and looked at the picture on my ID badge.

"Uh,"  I commented.

"I hate this picture!"

"Yeah, me too.  I wish it was beautiful."  he answered and gave me a little hug. 

"Good morning Ms. Powell!"  a late student announced as she entered the classroom.

"I'm supposed to be in quarantine!"

"Good morning, Izzy.  Do you mind, uh, stepping into the hallway?"  Ms. Powell responded, glancing at me with widening eyes before walking over to the classroom telephone.

Everyone has COVID.  Two of my students have it ripping through their middle school-aged siblings, kids I taught over the last few years.  Gabriel has it.  Juan, too.  And Alejandro.  The families have them locked in a room in the house while the rest of the uninfected try to continue with their lives and stay well.

"I'm sorry."  Baby Gustavo told me while I hovered over his desk, looking at his Social Studies work.  

"I should have told you sooner."

"It's okay,"  I responded.

"it's not my business, I just hope they are okay and start feeling better."

"I still think I should have told you."

He seemed genuinely disturbed and had been acting withdrawn for at least a week.

Alberto has taken to showing up to school an hour before the doors open and sitting outside in the dark.  He was miserable and bored when Juan was quarantined in his room and now his mother and sister have it.  He actually wants to be at school all of the time.  He was absent Friday and I can't help but wonder if it got him. 

"The tumor I  removed was malignant, another mast cell tumor.  Please schedule additional surgery for Lola on the following Monday so that I can get clean margins on the rest of the malignancy."  

Lola just got her stitches, and staples - a result of my negligence that ended up with the incision opening and a trip to the emergency vet - out and was finally about to be free of the cone and medicines.  And, it was cancer again.

I waited for my fifth graders to finish their breakfasts and go to class, closed my computer and cried.  

It seemed strange when Htoo took his jacket off during our lesson.  It's not particularly cold in the trailer, but all of my students wear heavy coats, all day.  Then, he started pulling his arms inside the sleeves of his shirt, as if he was cold.  I prattled on with my little phonics lesson.

"So, which letter makes the 'fffffff' sound....."  I continued, glancing up at Htoo and Adrian.  

Htoo jerked his arms upward, exposing his entire naked upper body and snorted like a pig.

I screamed.

Adrian and Htoo burst into hysterical laughter and I saw Aiden's arms snaking inside of their sleeves, preparing another naked surprise for me.  

"Okay."  I announced at the end of class and after several flashings.

"Prepare your beautiful selves for the hallway, we are going back in."

They smiled and snaked their arms back into their sleeves, put on their jackets and prepared to rejoin the general population.  

Good Morning

"Good morning.....oooh wah oooh wah ooh wah oooh.....good morning......"  the morning announcements blared through the trailer.   I hear that song now when I open my eyes in the morning and even in the shower.

"So...if this guy pulls up to you in a van....even an old white man like the guy in the video....he looks weak but he might not be....."  the new, part-time counselor explained, trying to do a little in-service for the fifth graders.
"Van...no....."  the kids sighed.  
"I'd snatch that money and get away...."

"What if he catches you?"

"I'd kick the windows out....I ain't gettin' in no van....."

"Ms. Wagner, are you going to retire?"  Kaw asked.

"What do you mean?  People retire when they are like, sixty."

"Yeah, are you going to retire?"

"How old are you, Ms. Wagner?"  Jorge asked.

"Forty-nine."  I answered.

"Wait.  Stop right there.   Please do not tell me your grandma is forty-nine."

He paused.

"My grandma....is forty-nine."
"I've had it with you, evil children!!"  I yelled in my brain.

"I banish you from my utility trailer!!"

"Odor.  Odor is your vocabulary word of the week.  One time, my dad left a sandwich on the floor of my car and I didn't know he left it there.  My car smelled awful until I figured out he left it there.  It left an ODOR."  the first grade teacher explained.  

Lola had another tumor removed.  We don't know if it is malignant or not.  Alec picked me up from the Housing Authority and I saw her cone on the floor of the car, after what was supposed to be a rudimentary vet visit.  She has stitches in her side.  

Angel Island. Fifth grade Social Studies lesson.  You might have not heard of it before and I didn't either, until a couple of years ago.  It's the west coast, Asian Ellis Island.

"Is that how we got here???"  Kaw whispered furiously to Paw Ku.

"Nah, dude, we came on a plane!"  she scream whispered back.   

"Odor, define odor." the first grade teacher requested.

"You got a stanky car."  a student answered.  

"Samentha, that's beautiful."  I commented, looking at her drawing.

"You always draw the ocean....the waves.....maybe it's Haiti, maybe it's the island...."  I speculated.

She stared me straight in the eyes.

"I dream about it."  she responded.  

Dreaming is Free

"Oh" the first grade teacher repeated.

"Oh".  
The first graders scribbled furiously on their white boards, trying to correctly spell the word.  
"Times up!"  the teacher called.
I heard a little gasp.

I looked across the room at the sea of white boards.  Nothing like staring at a million white squares with "ho" inscribed on them at eight o'clock in the morning.  

"Over thirty school staff members in Georgia have died of Covid in the first six weeks of school....."  the local NPR station announced as I drove down the pitch black highway on my way to work.  Many of my classes have the telltale signs of quarantine.  First, one student is missing.  Then, two rows of students surrounding the missing student's desk disappear for a couple of weeks.  Then, some gaunt looking kids return, eyes a little bigger and skin stretched more tightly across their faces.  Oddly, the adults that spend all day in these rooms are never really addressed, or quarantined.   It's like a weird open secret at the school.  

Ku was having a moment.  I had taken the wood-backed eraser away from him that he was pounding repeatedly on the table.  

"Sit in this chair."  I commanded in the most neutral tone I could muster.  

He shook his head and crossed his arms, obstinately.  

"Okay.  Let's continue....."  I said to the rest of the class.   I was going to try to ignore him and hope he didn't start ripping the whole classroom apart.  He started crying hysterically and climbed under a table.  I kept trying to teach.  The kids stared at me with open concern and shock.  They wanted me to fix it.  

"Ku, why are you so upset?  Please come out from under the table."

He ripped his mask off and threw it across the room.  He followed by throwing a wooden block at me.  

"Ku.  You have to put on the mask or this face shield.  Which one?"

"No!" he yelled and climbed out from under the table.

He got an inch from my face and coughed in it.  His face registered complete defiance.  My hands were starting to shake from being so pissed off.

"The mask or the shield."  I continued, holding them both out.  

He pushed toward me, crying, and started hugging me.

"Ku...I just don't understand, why are you so upset?"

He grabbed a tissue, wiped his face with it and threw it on floor at my feet, his face defiant again.  

"Put that in the trash."  I said, again trying to maintain a neutral tone.  

He grabbed another tissue and rubbed his wet mask with it over and over, all while crying his head off.  Then, he put it on, took my hand and we walked with the group back to his regular class.  

Lola's radiation site no longer has scabs on it.  And the pink skin is starting to get a gray, five o'clock shadow.  It reminds me of the hills around Tijuana in early spring, when bright green moss-like buds begin to overtake the barren peaks.  

"We're moving."  Paw Ku announced.

"WHAT?"  I responded.

"No."

"Well....something happened.  My mom was going somewhere and my grandma asked where she was going.  My mom said 'none of your business' and my uncle attacked her and beat her.  She has red and yellow and black bruises all over her legs....."

"They look really bad."  Bway Pa seconded.

"My mom didn't call the cops because he might come and get us if we did.  My dad came home and said we are out of there."

I was speechless.

The phone on my desk started ringing.  The call was coming from inside the building.  Always a bad sign.

"Hey, this is Wagner." I answered.

"They're here.  THE FAMILY IS HERE.  Did you ever get an interpreter?"

"I emailed two different people at the central office several times and got our principal involved.  No one is answering me."  I responded.  I didn't mention that I nearly have an ulcer from the rage this is provoking. 

"Okay, can you come up here?  I have to ask you a favor, too."

"Oh no.  Okay."  I answered.

"That kid of yours, the one that hits everyone.  He hit another kid and started throwing food all over the cafeteria.  I called dad and he pretended he didn't understand me.  Will you tell him in Spanish what happened so that he can't pretend he doesn't know?"

"Sure, but I'm texting him because every time I call he keeps me on the phone for a half an hour and I don't have time for that.  Where are Ku's parents?  Are we going to get him evaluated for special ed?"

"I had to send them home.  They couldn't understand me."

I saw the "We Are Karen" jersey when I looped behind the cafeteria to enter the school because our key badges aren't working again.  I knew it was Ku's dad, waiting for him.  

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry..."  I said immediately.

"It's okay, okay" he responded, with the same bright, open, kind eyes of all the Karen people I met in Thailand, twenty years ago.  He should have been pissed.  

"I'll fix this.  I promise."  I said, and walked away.

Clark the Shark

"You're safe.  He won't hit you again.  Please take a deep breath.  Drop the chair."  I whispered to the kid I was clutching from behind, the way you would pull a dog by the legs that was fighting another dog so that you don't get bit in the face.  

I used to work in a district that allowed us to dress informally.  Where I work now it is emphasized that we "dress for success".  Given our test scores, I'm not sure if the clothes are doing their job.  I felt pretty successful while hauling this massive rolling trash can filled with discarded milk and uneaten breakfasts over the uneven pavement to the dumpster in my nice skirt, silky blouse and expensive shoes.  As COVID has decimated the custodial staff at our school, we are doing things we don't ordinarily have to do.  Baby Gustavo and his dad walked by, entering the school.  We waved at each other while I tried to haul the overflowing bag out of the trash can and chocolate milk splashed on my skirt and shoes at the beginning of a long day.  

I went to my fourth grade class.  The regular teacher was in self-quarantine after a positive test in the classroom and a special education teacher had been forced to sub.   I barely had any kids there anyway, because they were either sick at home or awaiting test results.  Mya, one of my exited students, needed more time on some test and I was more than happy to take her.  Then, the fight broke out between the kid that used to communicate using only squeaks and some other asshole.  I broke up the fight and got the kids in separate corners and waited for the administrators to come while I showed the other teacher how to electronically sign her most recent evaluation.

"Oh hey, I need contact information on her."  my principal said in a friendly manner as Mya and I walked out of the room.  She was there to take the fighting kids away.
"She's not even in the program anymore, but let me see what I've got...." I answered.
"Because she...."  my principal continued.
"Is she supposed to be in quarantine?"
"Yeah, but the county never sent me the letters."
"Look, it's Burmese, I'll text you her dad's number.  If you give me the English letter I can put it through Google Translate. Let me know."

And then, I took Mya with me into a non-ventilated space so that she could finish her test in peace.  I was stunned that we were doing it this way.  If a family doesn't understand or abide by a quarantine, we just let a kid that was directly exposed keep coming to school?

They have been making me test every ESOL kid in the kingdom, no matter the situation. 

Ku preoccupied me the most.  The whole point of small group testing is to minimize distractions.  He is completely distracting.  He runs through the trailer, ripping things off of the walls.  He likes magnets, and opening drawers, doors and cabinets.  And, he screams.  He sprays cleaning stuff and hand sanitizer all over the room.  In the age of COVID, it is exhausting to clean up after he touches everything.  The first day of testing, I got lucky.  I picked up my fifth graders, warned them that we had a kindergartner coming, and picked up Ku.  He tore into the trailer, opening cabinets and pulling out whatever he felt like playing with.  

"I know you guys have younger brothers and sisters, so maybe you will be familiar with this kind of thing...."  I said hesitantly, knowing I was lying.  

"My little sister is normal, not like that."  Alberto mentioned, before putting his head phones on.  

I was surprised when I saw Kaw gently walk up to him and I heard him whispering in Karen to Ku.  Ku began to calm.  I stared at Kaw with admiration as he revealed another skill, another thing that he can do that others cannot.  

"I still have your copy of Blubber."  Mya said, after finishing the test.  

"Eat your candy, lady.  If you can find it, bring it back, but if you can't, it's no big deal.  Look at all these new books I have, pick one out!"

"But I haven't brought Blubber back."

"I don't care.  That was March, 2020.  Pick out a new one."

She stared at the map on my wall.  

I put my finger on Malaysia.  I knew she was Burmese, but she arrived from Malaysia and never associated herself with Myanmar.  I traced my finger from Malaysia to Myanmar.

"They are still trapped in Myanmar.  They are in the north.  The army hasn't caught them yet."

"Your family?"

I had never heard her say Myanmar before.

"Can you talk to them, text them?"

"Yes.  Sometimes.  My parents don't tell me anything.  I break into their Facebooks.  Why is that lady in jail?  Why did they do that?"  

"She didn't do anything wrong.  The army has taken control before and they decided to do it again.  That is how they are.  Do you want to see what she looks like?"

"Yes."

We looked at the picture of Aung San Suu Kyi on my laptop.  I detest her for her support of the Burmese Army against the Rohingya, but this was not the time to address that. 

"She survived almost twenty years in jail, she can do it again."  I told her.

"How old is she?"

"Almost eighty.  She is older than she looks."

"I thought she was forty."

I felt stupid for saying she could survive another twenty years of house arrest.  

Mario and Baby Gustavo were in the trailer, testing away.  Ku was playing noisily with a maze-like game that he had assembled in seconds.  I saw Gustavo's eyes broaden.

"I can't believe he can do that."  he commented.  

"Pee."  Ku announced.

"Oh no, you have to pee?  Can you wait just a second?"  I had to figure out what to do.  Ku cannot walk to the building by himself.  I also shouldn't interrupt students' tests to walk other kids to the bathroom or leave them alone while I walk them myself. 

Ku sat back down and continued playing.  Then, he stood up and started taking all of the pencils out of their cup.  I walked over and saw his dick out while he readied himself to pee in the cup.

"No no no no no!"  I shrieked.

He ran across the room and tried to pee in the recycling bin.  

"Gustavo, I'm really sorry, can you take him inside to the bathroom?"

Gustavo jumped up and took Ku by the hand and walked quickly out of the trailer and toward the building.  I saw Ku trying to pull away, pointing toward the woods.  

Mere minutes later, they emerged from the building.  Gustavo had his hands in the air and was shaking his head.

"He won't go in the bathroom!"  he called.  

As they entered the trailer, Ku pulled his dick out again and started to pee off of the ramp.  A group of maintenance workers stood a few feet away, staring at me.  I grabbed is arm and started trucking him toward the building.

As soon as we got to the cafeteria door, our way into the building, Ku whipped his dick out and peed all over it.  I gave up.  He created an additional massive puddle right in front of the door as a line of fifth graders went by.  Pee splashed on my fancy shoes.  We walked slowly back to the trailer.  Gustavo and Mario were still sitting there, typing away at their tests.  I squirted hand sanitizer and Lysol everywhere.  

I squeezed hand sanitizer onto Kaw's hands as he passed through the breakfast line. Though he was wearing a mask, I could see that his face was spreading into a mischievous smile.  

"Now, I'm going to....GO TOUCH LOTS OF PEOPLE."  he said, darting away in the line.  

"I'm sorry to interrupt your class.  Can I get a document that Ku's parents signed out of his book bag?"

"Sure," Ms. Perkins responded while she lined up her class for P.E.

"You're staying here."  she growled at a lone student, still seated at a desk.

"I've got it!"  Ku squealed, jumping up and down with delight, then sprinting toward his book bag.  I got the form and walked behind him as he tried to catch up with the line exiting the building for P.E.  

As we walked past, the child at the desk punched Ku savagely in the stomach.  

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!!"  I screamed.  

Ku screamed and cried and ran out of the building.

Ms. Perkins slammed the exterior door and I exited her classroom.  As I closed the other door, I watched her get two inches from the violent child's face.

"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH MY STUDENTS!"  she shouted.  I could hear her through the closed door.  

I walked down the hallway, looking down at my milk and piss covered shoes.  I shook my head around, trying to brush off the urge to cry.  

Title:  Clark the Shark by Bruce Hale

Wild Wind

"Hey, Agnieska, you should meet Femke.  Her family is from near where you came from....."

She looked at me a little blankly.

"Did your family come here on a plane from Africa?"  Femke asked.

"Yes...."  Agnieska answered.

"Mine too."

I returned to the Housing Authority for the first time in a year and a half.  The community center has been completely remodeled.  I knew it was going to happen, but was shocked by how nice it was.  It's beyond comprehension, rivals Middlebury.  I came in and saw half of the amount of children that we normally have in our after-school program.  And, they had all aged.  A lot.  

The fire drill thing came on, over and over again at school.  They kept telling us to disregard it, until they told us to pick up everything we own and evacuate immediately.  I grabbed both of my computers, personal and theirs and the rest of my shit and got outside.  We lined the kids up and they told us to push them back to the fence line.  We heard sirens.  I stood with my kids and watched the firemen enter the building.  It was a gas leak.  

Lola is walking on three legs, and her skin is scabbed and horrific.  She is on so much medicine that I monitor whenever she pees for fear of kidney damage.  

I see kids walk around school that I used to know, crying.  They aren't taking basic directions from their teachers.  My second graders don't know the alphabet.  They're like zombies.  

I thought the Housing Authority kids would be better off because of the district they live in, but I have kids writing random letters down, lacking any kind of phonetic awareness, in fourth grade.  And, they are hateful.  Kids I know, coming from families of which I have taught every member.  They want me to eat shit.  It makes me want to leave.  I'm exhausted, too.  By my third day at the Housing Authority, I saw Aazim and Habiba enter.  They are in sixth grade now.  I remember March, 2020 when I told them not to worry about anything and that we would be back in a couple of weeks.  The looked at me awkwardly and waved their hands, without raising them, keeping them locked by their sides.  

Mashia is stuck in Tunisia.  It's an odd story, something about the family being trapped there because of COVID.  I wave at her through the screen, half a world away.  

"We are in a code three lock down."

I was standing in the cafeteria, with nearly sixty children.  They started screaming and throwing chairs and trampling each other.  

"Go to the lab!'  my former teacher-roommate yelled.  

Code three lockdown means that there is an identified threat, inside the school.  For novices, we are talking Columbine. Bway Pa, Paw Ku, Alberto and Jorge were in that room.  The rest of my children were spread out, throughout the building.  Angel stood, baffled with paperwork I had just handed him, alone in the cafeteria.  I guided him to the lab.  Kaw was in the bathroom.  I hoped he was safe. 

We herded them into the lab, while one of their teachers sprinted from the trailer because she knew that her children were in that cafeteria.  

We got them down on the ground.  Many of them lacked masks, because the had been eating lunch.  We passed out as many as we had.  

Police cars lined the front of the school, and at the house across the street where the shots were fired.  It's the closest house to our school and five to seven shots were fired while two teachers and twenty-five first graders walked along the school, in a line.  

An additional second grade class saw our community member shoot a dog to death, in her front yard, while they were at recess.  

I heard a little knock, at the trailer door.

It was Bway Pa.

"Hey, Dr. Lewis wants her charger back."

"Tell her I put it back where I left it."

"Okay."

"Here, get in here, I have a treat for you.  Today sucked."

She waved at me while eating her Swiss Cake Roll, as the buses roared away.  

The Devil Made Me Do it the First Time

"Okay, we are going to finish this code of conduct thing...." Mr. Warner told his second grade class.
He continued to read off of the Power Point.  
"Well, I guess none of you have a pager, because they haven't been made in like, twenty years... but if you find one, don't bring it to school." he continued.  
"Don't do the drug part."  I implored him.  I had already seen it with my fifth graders and all that it prompted were questions from Kaw about what marijuana was and what LSD meant.  Those questions were hard enough to answer and then the rolling papers and pipes slide came up next.  I'm surprised they didn't mention roach clips with feathers hanging from them.  

I picked up my $1400 rental car the day before pre-planning began.  I rented the cheapest economy one and was glad when I went to the store thing and they actually had a car for me.  On top of it, it wasn't the little car, instead I got a brand-new Camry, so huge I didn't know how to drive it and with so many weird gadgets I had to keep the manual on the passenger seat just to figure out basic functions.  

"Wow,"  my brother in-law exhaled after jumping into the back seat.

"This is so.... whorish."

You mean the faux leather, red and black interior?  Yeah, that's how I ride.  

Lola has been getting radiation on her leg, everyday, five days a week.  Alec has been doing the heavy lifting, dropping her off in the morning and picking her up three hours later, via her prioritized schedule.  I watch them ride off and get into my whorish car and try to focus on work.  

By the first week of school, two out of three of our custodians were out with COVID.  Last year, we received a letter every time a student or staff member got sick, informing us that contact tracing had been done and that we were not exposed.  This year, we haven't received anything and no one was quarantined.  Other districts are releasing the number of COVID infections they have regularly and telling how many people they have in quarantine.  Our district is radio silent, leaving us all nervous.  

My baby is back.  It was exactly as I predicted it.  March, 2020, we left everything.  As I hunted down my students via telephone from my living room, I could not get ahold of Agnieskza.  She wasn't logging-in online.  I called.  I texted, in French.  I emailed.  I told her dad to pick up a laptop.  I made interpreters call.  Every time, if he answered, he would say he didn't know that we were still having school.  She dropped off of the rolls early last year.  I knew what was going to happen.  I knew that as soon as in-person learning resumed her dad would walk her up and play dumb, as if nothing had happened.  As is he randomly didn't keep his child out of school for a year and a half.  And that is exactly what he did.  
She's back.  She was placed a year behind her grade level, because she never did second grade.  He didn't even come.  My other baby, Nsimba brought her.  
"I didn't know if you'd still be here."  Agnieskza told me, two days later.

"I'll always be here."  I answered.  
"Nsimba says she misses you."

Lola has finished her treatments.  Her fur is peeling off of her leg.  I have worked the longest fifteen days of my life.  And I haven't even told you the half of it.  

*Title, Waylon Jennings, Black Rose

The Ones in My Heart

Hot vax summer hasn't been what I thought it would be. 

I enjoyed my second stay on Tybee Island this summer, this time with my mom, sister, niece and her boyfriend.  The place we rented had beautiful porches that we could sit on and should have been an all together good time.  But my mind was on other things: Lola, Alec taking care of everything on his own, and the stupid vet not being able to digest which phone number she was supposed to call, though we filled out paperwork every morning with contact information.  

I think the worst was the night we ate at a place I had been really looking forward to and calls started coming through from the vet hours after they had been placed because of my shitty coverage, telling me that my dog was in duress.  
"She is hurting herself.  Her feet are injured.  It is not good for her to be here all day in the kennel.  We are changing our protocol for Lola and she will be the first dog in and the first dog out, everyday."

I would have taken that call.  I never liked the protocol to begin with, the ten, twelve hour days, "we'll call you when we call you" stuff, but they said it was so that they could serve as many sick dogs as possible.  All I could hear on my phone was "Lola is in duress." I came back to the table and tried to act natural; Alec was texting me telling me it was all in control.  I, on the other hand, decided not to be in control and drank 500 beers and stayed up until two o'clock in the morning with my niece.  I felt physically ill for a lot of the remainder of the trip, both from that night of drinking and my fear of what was happening to Lola.  Now, I'm grateful that they were willing to adjust their system to keep Lola safe.  

School started on Monday.  This might have been the fastest summer ever.  I had hoped to be tan and buff, but I rolled in on the first day in my rental car with wet hair and went straight to my trailer.  Lola made it through her half-way mark of radiation today.  She has eight more treatments to go.  Alec and I get up really early and prepare her for the ride.  We fast her each night and give her a million pills in the morning and flush her IV catheter with saline.  Then, I watch them drive down the street, thinking about how the majority of things that I love profusely are encapsulated in one compartment, driving slowly away.  

When I can't see them anymore, I go to work.  

Would You Still Remember Me?

I knew it was bad when I nearly started crying at the first sounds of Freebird while drinking a beer at 10:30 in the morning in a sticky, Hawks-inspired airport bar.   I’m going on vacation.

Lola started her radiation.  The first day went pretty smoothly, though we dropped her off at 7:20 in the morning and she wasn’t ready until 7:00 in the evening.  I was worried the whole day about rain.  Lola has gotten so intolerant to rain that we could easily crash the car and die if we were on one of the many highways that lead to the vet and rain began.  I also worried abut the daily anesthesia and fifty million medications she has to take. 

We worked out her transportation for the radiation.  Alec switched his schedule to nights and I rented a car for nearly three weeks so that I could get to work in the mornings while he dropped her off north of the city in our car and I could pick her up in the afternoons after work in the rental car while he works.  I told my second job that I can't start for a minute.  But, the rain. Watching the rain and being in fear and begging people to ride around with a thrashing dog for sixteen days is a lot. And, it's awful for her, on top of all the other stresses.  After dropping her off for her first day of radiation, I drove to Petco and bought the biggest crate that would fit in the back seat, secured it with carabiners and put a comfy blanket in the bottom. Then, I ordered a second one for the rental car.

I love picking Lola up from the vet.  She runs at me and drags the vet techs behind her, tail wagging.  I cry every time I drop her off.  

I am physically catching up with my family in Tybee Island, yes, Tybee again, two times in one summer. They went down to the rental I picked out months ago on Tuesday and I’m flying down there today.  It was the same price as renting a one-way car and Alec is off until Saturday, when I come back.  He is going to take her back and forth to her daily appointments.  I almost didn’t go at all, but I know Alec will take care of her.  But it has been a difficult decision and I am not sure I can even enjoy a "vacation" knowing what she is going through.  

And, I cried after dropping her off for radiation this morning.

Hot Winds on My Shoulder

We sat in the full parking lot of the animal hospital.  It's north of the city in an ugly, traffic-y area.  Because of COVID, everyone was waiting in their cars with their dogs until someone came out to get them.  And then, you watch your dog walk into this big building and just keep waiting in the car.  It was a pretty tremendous operation.  They finally took Lola into the hospital to see the radio-oncologist.  I was surprised to watch her skip in there with a total stranger, butt shaking and into the hospital.  She didn't even look over her shoulder at me.  Quite a while later, the doctor emerged.  

"I am really not familiar with that shot, we don't do it here."  she began.  
The shot.  Neat.  The reason why we got a referral here.  The thing that would blast out that tumor without anesthesia or radiation.  The reason we were now seeing a third vet in fucking Sandy Springs-middle earth.  I looked at the ground.
"I recommend surgery.  The surgeon will not be able to get all of the tumor and Lola will require sixteen radiation treatments to eradicate the rest of it after surgery.  I want to aspirate her spleen and ultrasound her organs to make sure it hasn't spread.  This is going to take a few hours, you guys should go home.  I'll get her on the surgery schedule, it could be one to two weeks and then we'll schedule radiation.  Go home.  We'll call you."

We were back at square one.  Three vets later and back at square one and my dog still had a tumor on her leg that was malignant.  I pulled out of the parking lot and bawled my head off. 

Alec started googling every vet in Georgia and even in Tennessee to try to find someone that could evaluate Lola for the shot.  I didn't care if Lola was on every vet's schedule in town, the way this was going it seemed like the only way anyone was going to every treat this fucking thing.  UGA couldn't get her in for six weeks.  Most vets didn't have the shot.  Finally, a vet in Chattanooga knew what we were talking about and was available to evaluate Lola on July 8th.  

The radio-oncologist called and said that we could pick Lola up.  The ultrasound came out clear and Lola was scheduled for surgery on July 6th.  I hung up the phone and looked at Alec.  We had a decision to make, get the surgery or delay even more to get Lola evaluated for the shot.  We drove back to the animal hospital.

The vet came out with Lola.  

"I will have the results in 24 hours for the spleen."  she informed us.  

"I looked into it too and we do do the shot.  But, the tumor is too big, so she is not eligible for it."

"Okay."  I responded.  

"She's on the schedule for surgery and I will call you with the results of the spleen aspiration."

In ways, I was relieved that the decision had been made for us regarding surgery vs. shot.  But I was horrified by the idea of my dog being put under anesthesia for sixteen days and experiencing radiation.  They said it would blister, and be painful.  Even two weeks after the end, it's bad.  But, it has a 90% survival rate for 3-5 years before reoccurrence.  

The timeline was getting crazy, too.  Lola will have to be dropped off by seven in the morning and picked up in the afternoon.  I start working on July 26th, from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon.  I am also returning to my second job three days a week.  Alec and I have one car. He rides his bike to work and I use the car to get to where I work east of Atlanta, in the mornings it takes twenty-two minutes to get there, but from the vet it would take forty-five, if something crazy didn't happen.  The vet is north of Atlanta, about 40 minutes from where we live if traffic is tolerable.  My second job is in Decatur.  Radiation wouldn't begin until around two weeks after surgery and would be scheduled for sixteen, Monday through Friday days.  It would start the day I was supposed to go on a vacation that is non-refundable at this point and last through my pre-planning week and into the second week of school.  

I was scared to death about my dog and literally grinding my teeth to nubs trying to figure out how we would get her back and forth for her radiation and keep both of our jobs.  And, I was again pacing around with my phone in my hand waiting again to find out if it had spread to her spleen.  

Days later, the vet called and said that Lola's spleen was clear.  I started crying again, out of relief.  And, last Tuesday, she had her surgery.  The tumor has been removed.  Her leg is bandaged up to her knee and she is on "house rest", meaning she can't run around or jump.  We have been spending a lot of time indoors, laying on the couch while I pet her.  

As horrible as this is, I am beyond grateful that the cancer did not spread.  Everything would be even more awful right now.  Honestly, it would be intolerable.  

Someone's Going to Get Hurt Before You're Through

Driving Lola home from the vet turned into one of the worst days of my life.  She couldn't walk.  She was so drugged from the shit they gave her in order to biopsy her lymph nodes and X-ray her body that I barely recognized my dog.  I had to pull upward on her harness while her legs limped along just to get her in the car.  My sister waited in the driver's seat while I climbed into the back seat with my dog.

Lola whimpered.  Cried.  Her eyes were bulging in fear, I could see the white parts all around them.  I petted her and hugged her but nothing would sooth her.  She wouldn't even get on the seat; she laid on the floor of the car.  

"Call Steve," my sister requested.
"Tell him to meet us at your house."  

When we pulled up in the driveway, my brother-in-law, Steve, was waiting at the curb.  He lifted Lola out of the car and carried her through my back yard and down the steps and into the house.  He placed her on the couch.  

She whimpered and cried and paced the whole day.  I couldn't get her to eat, nothing I did helped.  I wrapped her up in her favorite velveteen blanket, turned the fan on, hugged her and cried.  Finally, around four o'clock in the afternoon, she fell asleep.  The only thing she ate was some expensive, leftover cheese that we had bought for Alec's mom while she was here.  

We got the results of her blood work and biopsies and X-rays multiple days later.  It was supposed to be twenty-four hours.  I carried my phone even to the bathroom with me with the ringer on for days, waiting.  Finally, they had some answers.  

"Blood work remains normal.  It has not passed to either of her lymph nodes.  Her lung and body scans are clear.  It has not metastasized."

I started to cry.  

"Is this comprehensive, could anything have been missed?"  I asked.

"You have done everything you can do.  I think she is a very good candidate for Stelfonta."

We go to Lola's radio-oncologist tomorrow.  We hope that she will do the treatment immediately.  I stare at the tumor on her leg, worrying that it is metastasizing as I watch.    I kiss her and do weird Catholic shit, hoping that though I'm a non-believer that they will still bless my dog.  

I bless my dog.  

* Title, Waylon Jennings

The Black Sea

I heard a little knock on the trailer door, early in the morning on the last day of school.
"Faba!"  I exclaimed, surprised to see him.  He hadn't been at school in days and I assumed he wasn't coming back.  
"My sister didn't know we still had school!"  he said shyly.
"I have your Bud, Not Buddy," continued, handing me the book.  
"Oh, Faba, I am going to miss you."  I responded.
"Maybe I'll be able to stop by."  he answered in his pretty Congolese accent, radiant teeth shining in the morning sun.  

I broke him out his ordinary classroom with the few kids I had that were still in the building.  They ate lunch in the trailer, played Scrabble and ate Starburst until the buses came.  I didn't break out Mashia; I'm not sure why.  I felt enormously guilty when I went to say goodbye to her and she would barely talk to me.  

The school year ended with a naked man walking through the the carpool/bus lane and an unceremonious, it's three o'clock, you can leave vibe.  I could hear teachers' tires squealing and saw a line of cars peeling out even before I could get the trailer locked.  

I tried to hit the ground running and spent days cleaning up our house and yard.  I wanted to get it out of the way, and Alec's mom was coming in to town.  She would be in Atlanta for a couple of days and then we would drive to Tybee Island for a few days at the beach.  I was really looking forward to it.  I haven't gone swimming in two years, principally because of COVID, and even driving to the Georgia coast was thrilling.  I selected a pet friendly, 1960s cinder block beach cottage right by a couple of my favorite beach access points.  

Lola really doesn't like rain.  Before, she would tolerate it while in the car, as long as we did not turn the windshield wipers on.  Now, even sprinkles on the windshield drives her into a nearly ninety pound frenzy of powerful dog.  Alec and I watched the weather like hawks, trying to anticipate the drive.  

We hit rain.  And road work.  A four hour drive turned into more than seven.  I was in the backseat, trying to hold Lola back from crashing forward and attacking the windshield.  She was terrified, barking, foaming at the mouth, her heart racing and her skin hot to the touch.   I wasn't mad at her, I felt terrible.  Alec's mom was in the front seat, tolerating this awful situation.  By the time we arrived, I was soaking wet from rain, had sworn and cried and had bruises all over every conceivable part of my body.  When we went to sleep in my little twin bed across from Alec's little twin bed, I hugged Lola very hard.  

I swam in the ocean the next day, floated on my back and looked at the sun.  

The day after we returned to Atlanta, Lola's vet called with results of a biopsy I requested during her annual well visit.
"It's malignant."

Malignant.  The thing you have been saying for years we should "just watch"?  The thing I got biopsied at a different vet and they said it was nothing?  The thing I had to push you to biopsy again?

"They can schedule her surgery for June 30th."  Alec told me.

"The main doctor says that she isn't concerned about another two and a half week wait." he continued.

"Yeah," I responded.

"Because she's never concerned about a whole lot of anything."

Alec nodded and started calling every vet in town to see who could get on this faster.  

We got an appointment at my mom's vet and they scheduled the surgery a week later, as well as a lymph node biopsy to see if the cancer had metastasized.  We watched the rain and panicked about getting her there and back, and worried about reports that the location of her tumor was a difficult place to operate.  My sister and I drove her for the appointment, on Alec's first day back to work after his vacation.  The sky stayed pretty clear.  

About an hour and half after dropping her off, my phone started ringing.

"She needs to see an oncologist.  I can't remove all of the tumor because of the location.  I want to call in a referral to a radio-oncologist, I'm texting you everything.  If it hasn't spread, there is a non-surgical option that will destroy the tumor.  It will take a lot of home care, it will be an open wound.  If it has spread, she'll need surgery and chemo and radiation.  I'm going to ask them if I can biopsy the lymph node and scan her lungs for tumors and do her blood work, if they will accept that.  Do I have your consent?"

"Yes."

"They are accepting my preparation and that will speed things along.  They have a cancelation for next week, call them as soon as we get off the phone.  It's on June 30th.  I am about to start the scans."

"When can I pick her up?"

"In an hour, I gave her a sedative so that I can X-ray her and biopsy her lymph node.  She's woozy.  We will have the results in twenty-four hours, but if I see anything big in the X-ray, I can tell you today."

That's all I've got.  That is really all that I've got.  

Super Flower Blood Moon

I drove slowly down the street near my school, looking for Prem's house.  I parked across the street, put my mask on and stepped hesitantly from the car.  I had a bag full of drift souvenirs for Prem:  a t-shirt, hat, programs, stickers....even a piece of rubber.  I was going to leave it on the front porch, when something beside the garage caught my eye.  Prem jumped up and sprinted across the front yard then bolted straight across the street.
"Prem!"  I exclaimed.
"You could have gotten hit by a car!"
"I don't care...." he replied in his subversive whisper, his face filled with joy.  

"What happened to your eye?"  I asked Soe, after picking her up from her classroom.  A sizeable scab was resting right below her lower eyelashes.

"My mom got mad and threw her phone at me."  she responded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Kaw shot out of his classroom.

"Ms. Wagner, yesterday Paw Ku cried."  he whispered furtively.

"Yes, she cried." Bway Pa seconded, a concerned look on her face.

Paw Ku nodded.

"I'll tell you in the trailer."

"So, yesterday that sub we had started asking us questions after you brought us back.  Questions about where we are from.....I told him the soldiers were chasing us and that we ran....we ran to the Americans and they told my parents $2000 each for them and that I could come for free."

I stared back.  

"It is still happening."  Bway Pa added.

"The are killing people again."

The Myanmar coup has been going on for a while now.  I always wonder how both my Burmese and Karen students are taking it, but don't want to prod them to discuss it.  But, it happens anyway. 

Career day was quickly approaching.

"Me," Mashia said in response, "I just want to be a socialite."  

"Look, Aniyah, this is not an episode of Cribs!  Stop giving everyone a tour of your house!"

I stared into the computer screen at my second grade class.  Their homeroom teacher was unraveling a bit.  We all are.  

I stood on the corner watching the kids walk the rest of the way home.  The school buses roared by, but one of them was filled with screams.  The bus screeched to a halt and I saw two girls in the aisle, fist fighting.  Mya peered through the window of the bus, smiled, and held up her award for being the best music student.  The girls continued fighting behind her.

"I am going to Indiana this summer!"  Soe exclaimed.

"Wow, that's far!  Why are you going to Indiana?"  I asked.

"We are going to see the cops."  she responded. 

"My dad is going to build me a bamboo house."  Paw Ku said, a big smile on her face.  We looked at various pictures of bamboo huts and commented on which was the coolest.

"He can build them really fast.  After the army would burn ours down, he would just build it again."

"I like any politician that supports LGBTQ rights."  Bway Pa announced definitively.

"That's great, Bway Pa, you are an ally."  I answered.

"Nah, I'm not an ally.  I'm pan." she responded, a satisfied look on her face.

"And, on Sunday, blood was on my pants.  I was wearing white.  I tried to make it go away but it just kept coming."  she continued.

"Oh god, Bway Pa, I am so sorry."

"I didn't know what was happening...." she responded, and then told the ESOL class the horrors of her first period.  The boys, Kaw and Jorge, listened attentively, but were clearly baffled by what she was talking about.  

"I am VERY UNCOMFORTABLE."  she announced at the end.

"These pads suck."

"And this thing is going to happen to Paw Ku, too."

Paw Ku looked back at me, blankly.

"Okay, so we'll start with the electric slide and then do a Soul Train."

I was confused, but knew that this end of the school year video involved dancing, which I don't do.  I was only there because our principal wanted us to do it.  

The line dance started and I was lost.  I kept getting where no one was in front of me and I had no idea what to do.  It was humiliating.  I finally caught sight of one of the lunch ladies, watching me with amusement.

"I need guidance!" I scream-whispered.

"Don't worry,"  she responded.

"I got you."

Chaos in the Big Sea

"Prince Philip died." my royal watcher, Mashia, announced in a Google Classroom message.
I went to her classroom to pull her out.  We had already talked extensively about the Meghan/Harry situation in previous weeks.  She is Team William/Kate.
"Who wouldn't want to be a royal?"  she asked with a shrug during one of our previous conversations.  We had also remarked on the appearance of Prince Philip before he died, breaking into uncontrollable inappropriate laughter because of his freakish, cryptlike-alive appearance.  
As soon as she exited the classroom, she looked me directly in the eyes.
"I thought," she said before pausing, "that he would be mum...mummified."  
We both started laughing so hard I was crying.  I knew right away that she meant whatever those weird, embalmed glass cases are called that house the viewable bodies of Chairman Mao and Lenin and Ho Chi Minh.  I don't know why it was so funny, but this little third grader just has a way of cracking me the fuck up.  

"Where did the Expo go?" I asked Paw Ku.  

"It fell back there, in that crack in the bookcase."  she responded.

We both dug our fingers into the crack by the floor.

"I think I felt fur."  she commented, casually.

I ripped my hand out.  

I walk the kids that walk home from school up the hill in the afternoons.  I watch them until they get to the corner and then I walk back to school.  It's not the worst afternoon duty.  My crew is small, because most of our students opted not to return to the school building during COVID.  As we walked one day, a man came out of the overgrown woods around the school, the woods filled with old tires and trash and snakes.  He was carrying a large golf club, swinging it, while bouncing a tennis ball.  He had on long shorts with socks pulled to his knees and shower shoes.  He came toward us.  These kids aren't stupid and they side-eyed me with looks like this guy is janky.  We kept walking.  We got to the top of the hill and I turned my back on him and told the kids to walk home.  I wasn't comfortable, but I figured if he cracked anyone in the head I would prefer it was me instead of them.  

I took the day off and drove nearly an hour outside of town to got to the Drift races, without Prem.  The weather was clear and cool.  As soon as I got there, I saw that he had already blown up my phone with messages.

"Ms. Wagner, are you there?  YOU DID NOT GO TO SCHOOL, DID YOU???"

As fast as I could, I got in front of a Formula Drift sign and made him a video, reassuring him that I DID NOT GO TO SCHOOL, and to get ready, because the videos and photos were coming.   As soon as I got to the actual track, I felt my phone buzzing.  He was calling me on Instagram's version of FaceTime and he had Kaw on the call.

"They're coming, Prem, they're coming!"  I yelled over the noise, before turning my phone around so that he could see the twin cars racing down the hill and breaking and drifting with smoke clouding the whole air.  

"That is really cool...." I heard Prem whisper into the phone.  

I felt ridiculous when tears filled my eyes, but I just kept them focused on the race and kept filming.  

My fourth graders ran out to our trailer, picking weed flowers the whole time.  The made head bands, rings, even a head band and a bracelet for Lola.  We all put them on and read our book, with magic everywhere.  

*Title from House of Love, Christine

Major

Pablo and I were walking from the trailer when we saw a dog wandering around.  A German Shepard.  
Pablo and I have pursued leash-less dogs around the school before.   He loves animals in the same way I do and instinctively wants to figure out what's wrong and how to get them home.  We walked toward the dog to try to see if it had a collar.  I had my phone out, ready to call the owner or walk it home, if necessary.  The dog started howling and barking at us, while advancing in our direction.
"Pablo, stay back,"  I stated, putting myself between him and the dog.  Pablo is tiny, probably about half of the size of my own dog, Lola.  
"Walk slow....."  I continued, as we walked toward the school.  

We watched the dog circle back around and attempt to enter Mr. Bangamba's trailer.  The door quickly slammed and the dog wandered around his handicapped ramp, or like I like to call it, his "porch".  

As Pablo and I walked past the front office, people started calling out to us.  

"Wagner!  Watch out!  There's a dog out there!"

I smiled and waved and took Pablo back to his class.  I picked up my fourth graders.

"Saludos, friends.  So look....there's a dog outside.  If you see it, just walk slow and don't scream, everything is fine."

By the time we got to the cafeteria, the gateway to the trailer park, everyone told us not to go out there.  My students sat at a table with a large window that overlooked the "park", as if they were at the movies.  

Our principal came in, with a teacher that I know owns large dogs.  They went outside.  I was surprised when our principal started walking slowly, letting the teacher lead, then skipped over to the wall of the school, pressing herself against it while she ran back to the cafeteria, my students opening the door so that she could run back inside, leaving the teacher to his own devices.  

"Bangamba's coming in!" the walky-talky screamed.  

Suddenly, a line of kindergartners, running and screaming, tore toward the cafeteria.  Behind them, Mr. Bangamba ran too, mouth agape, carrying a child and sprinting.  It looked like a war movie before the bombs dropped.  We opened the door and let them in.  

"That dog!"  he exclaimed.

"It came in twice!  I was teaching the kindergartners and this dog kept running in!"

The dog mysteriously really had a thing for Bangamba.  

We hung out in the cafeteria.  My kids were having the time of their lives.  Ms. Goode ran her students in from the trailer and my students dutifully opened the door for them.  We eventually ended up on a level one lock down as the PE coach, a custodian and the teacher that has big dogs corralled the dog until the pound picked him up.  None of us wanted that to happen, but cars and buses were lining up in the pick up lane and we couldn't have a dog running around in the middle of that. 

Just another warm day at school.