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.