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.   

 

Lightning Never Strikes Anymore

"I'm really sorry, Prem."  I texted, via Instagram.
I was sitting at my desk at seven am, on the Tuesday after Spring Break.  I felt everything coming over me hard, like the wettest blanket in the world when you already can't breathe.  

Prem is really into drift racing.  When I told my brother in-law that, he lit up like a spark plug.

"Hilary, I go to those races every year!  I've got connections!  Bring him, we'll show him the time of his life!".

"Prem, the drift races come here in May.  I would like to take you, but we have to ask your parents first...."  I told Prem.

"The race track is outside of town?  Like a road trip?  Can we roll the windows down and blast music?!"  he asked.

"Of course Prem, of course....."

"Can we pit stop for snacks?  I'll bring money...."

"Prem, we will have the time of our lives, you don't need money, I've got this..."

"I think I will need a hat.  I'll bring it.  It will be sunny out, maybe sun block too.  Water.  I'll need water...." he continued.  

I dreamed too.  

"Can I bring somebody?"  he asked.

"Of course, Prem!  Who do you want to invite?"  

"I want to invite Faba."  he answered.

"Perfect pick, Prem, I'll call his parents."

"When is May?  I really wish it was tomorrow....." he continued.

It was February.  The longest wait ever.  

We talked about it a lot.  

"Prem, I'll ask your parents as soon as the last round of testing is over, I don't want to confuse them with too many dates and random stuff....do you really think they'll let you go?"

"One of my sister's teachers took her to Tybee Island for a week!"  he responded.  

And we planned and planned and planned.

I had it written in my planner.  The Monday after Spring Break.  Talk to Prem's parents.  And I did, first thing in the morning.  

By Tuesday morning, his sister responded.  

"I'm really sorry.  Our dad said no.  COVID and he's so young......"

I didn't know what to say and there was no way I was going to argue.  

Prem barely spoke to me for a day.  

By Wednesday, he broke into Kaw's reading lesson.  

"Hi Prem, I'm so glad you are here, but do you mind giving us thirty minutes?"  I asked.  Kaw's reading level is so low and Prem's is so high that I did not want to set up an embarrassing situation.  

"No, I want to stay.  I'll mute myself, I won't speak."  he answered.

"Okay."

Prem played the comprehension games with Kaw about the kindergarten level book we had just read. 

"Should we tell him what happened?"  Prem asked, nearly forty-five minutes later. 

"It's your business, Prem, it is up to you.  But I am so sorry..."

"Ms. Wagner was going to take me somewhere......"  he started.  

"Really???!!!"  Kaw responded.

"Where?  To her house???  To the park???"

"It's a race.  To a racetrack."  Prem continued.

"MS. WAGNER WAS GOING TO TAKE YOU TO A RACETRACK???!!!"  Kaw screamed.  

"We are both really disappointed,"  I added.

"Prem's parents aren't comfortable, and I understand that.  But Prem, I know it sounds crazy....but maybe next year?  You'll be in sixth grade...."

"YES." he answered.

"I will be bigger then.  And the anti-Asian hate will be gone."

That was the first time that I knew that that was the real reason he couldn't go.  

"Are you still taking Faba?"  Prem asked.

"No, Prem.  I love Faba, but this was your idea and I am not taking any kids to the races without you.  It's just not fair."  I responded.

"Okay."  he answered.

"Are you still going to go?"  he asked.

"Prem, I don't know.  I'm not sure if I want to go if you can't go.  It won't be the same."  I answered.

"No, Ms. Wagner, you have to go.  You can live stream it to me, take pictures, videos."

"Okay, Prem, I'm taking the day off.  I'm going to do this."

"TEACHERS CAN TAKE A DAY OFF TO GO TO RACETRACKS?"  Kaw screamed.

"Yeah, Kaw, we get a couple of days a year when we don't have to go to work but don't have to explain why....."  I answered.

"Hey Kaw, next year.....do you want to go to the races with Ms. Wagner and I?"  Prem asked.....

The King of All Wild Things

"Ms. Wagner, do you have Facebook?"  Kaw asked.
"Yeah, I do." I responded.
"But....I went on my sister's Facebook and looked for you and you weren't there.  I typed in 'Ms. Wagner' in the box and couldn't find you."  he continued.
I smiled.  Ms. Wagner.  
"Oh Kaw, don't worry, when you're in middle school we can be Facebook friends, but it might be too early now."  I answered.
"That's okay,"  he responded.
"I see you on Instagram."

I stared back through the laptop at Ku.  It was early, before eight o'clock.  His hair was sticking up and he was wrapped in a blanket.  

"Okay, Ku, we are going to read something different today."  I announced.

I was really relieved he was smiling.  His sister was smiling, too. Many days he cries and runs from the computer.  His sister chases him and forces him to sit down, stress contorting her face.  She grabs him hard and threatens to hit him.  It's misery.

"It's called Where the Wild Things Are.  I hope you like it because YOU are a wild thing too!"  I continued.

"You are a wild thing!"  his sister said jovially and they both laughed.  

His face filled with fascination as the story unfolded.  Suddenly, I heard Prem's voice.  

"Look, trees!"  he said, when the trees began to grow in the boy's bedroom.

"Tree....."  Ku repeated.  It is very rare for him to speak words.  In any language.  

I looked at the screen and watched Prem and Ku's faces fill with wonder as the story continued.  For just that second, everything felt really okay.  It was still dark outside and I was in a broken down utility trailer behind the school and they were clustered in Ku's bedroom.  And we all read Where the Wild Things Are.  

Pablo stared back at me, defiantly.  

"Pabloooooo," I implored.

"We have to get this thing done.  Okay, so the question is, how are you and Jimmy Carter the same?"  I asked, reading the question off of the assignment he did not want to do.

"We both have dads."  he answered.

"Great!  Write that down."

"Okay, next one...."  I continued.

"How are you and Jimmy Carter different?"

"I am a little boy.  And HE is a BIG GIRL." Pablo answered, slamming his pencil down.  

"So, my brother.  He did not come with us."  Kaw mentioned, randomly.  He has told me that before.

"Is he still in Thailand?"

"Yes, but he is being chased by the soldiers now.  We cannot reach him."

Many of my Karen students left Myanmar for northern Thailand because of persecution.  Some arrived directly from Myanmar as refugees.  Even my Burmese students left Myanmar and have Malaysia as their last residence before arriving as refugees to the United States.  Considering the fucked up government there, being Burmese sounds bad enough, but to be persecuted by the Burmese for being an ethnic minority sounds even more hopeless.  The military coup has come up several times.  They will mention it when I least expect it and drop the subject just as quickly.  Anti-Asian violence comes up in the same way.   

"If he comes here, will he stay at your new house?"  I asked Kaw.

"No!  Ms. Wagner, no!  When you come to United States, first you go to apartment.  THEN, you go to a house.  First, apartment."  he explained. 

I smiled.  The rules of arriving as a refugee, explained by a little boy who came when he was five and just moved from the apartments to a house.  

"Are you looking forward to Spring Break?"  I asked.

"Yaaaasssss!" he responded, his voice rising and cracking like it does when he's excited.

"I am going to sleep and then I am going to stay up and I am going to play Call of Duty!"

"I hope you have a great break." I responded, waiving furtively into the camera before hanging up, turning off the lights and locking the trailer for a week-long break.

 

*Title from Where the Wild Things Are, Maurice Sendak