Fay Wray

"Peas taste like ass."  Ariel announced.

"What....?"  I responded, and burst out laughing.

"Peas taste like GRASS." she corrected, a sly look in her eye.

I can't remember why we were talking about peas.

I was walking toward the school after my afternoon duty when I heard horror movie screams.  Running.  Adults and children alike.  I saw a small, fawn-colored Pit Bull galloping toward the open door of the school.  

"Oh silly, silly, come here...."  I called inadvertently, advancing toward the dog.

One of the students let out a blood-curdling scream and the dog turned and ran toward the full bus lane.  I followed.  Mr. Brandon and I weaved through the cars and buses, begging people not to hit her while we tried to catch her.  She let Mr. B approach her when we were near the street, but seemed to want to run whenever I came near.

"I'll let her lead me to her house!"  Mr. B called to me as the two walked down the street.  

I went to my faculty meeting and tried to return to the trailer to finish some work when one of the after-school kids called out to me.

"There's a dog out there!"  he exclaimed, pointing toward the front door.   I went outside and sure enough, the skinny, goofy puppy was back.  A few of my male co-workers stood around with her, talking about what a cute dog she was and the fact that none of them could take her.  I could see her little bones sticking out and she was in heat.  She was a little smelly, too.  I petted her anyway.  One by one, my co-workers started leaving.  

"Those big dogs around the corner tried to attack her."  Mr. B mentioned.  The big, unfixed, off-leash dogs that some of the neighbors backyard bread for money.  I was horrified.  Mr. Warner waited with her while I grabbed a leash from my classroom.  We walked her to my trailer.

"I wonder how many county rules we are breaking right now."  he commented while I unlocked the door.

"I'll just say I didn't know it wasn't allowed."  I answered, laughing.  

I gave little girl some water and paced around inside, trying to figure out what to do.  I knew I should take her to the county shelter, but it's full and she could be put down in a matter of days.  Lola hates other dogs, it could be a violent, horrible situation to bring this little girl into our house.  I couldn't put either dog in that situation.

"Let's go for a ride."  I announced.

I tried to get her to ride in back, but she immediately jumped in the front seat and sat completely upright, like a human.  I did the mom-arm seat belt thing and we drove slowly through the neighborhood.  I don't know what I thought I'd find, a person looking for their dog?  Someone who recognized this little girl?  Finally, I pulled out onto the main road and drove toward the no-kill animal shelter around the corner.  The one that doesn't just take drop-offs.  The one that makes you go to the regular kill-shelter first.  The volunteer-run one that is bursting at the seams with pets too.  I pulled in and parked the car.  I milled around the parking lot, trying to figure out what to do.  Someone finally saw me and came over.

"Hey....."  I said.

"I know this is a long shot....I work at a school around the corner..."  I continued, kind of waving my badge that I still had around my neck.

"We found this little dog....she was running in the bus lane, she's going to get hurt, I just don't know what to do....."  I blubbered, then burst out crying.

"Here....let me get the chip scanner....I can check if we even have any space.....legally we can't take dogs directly, they have to go to the county shelter in case someone is looking for them.....look, I'll get the scanner."  the nicest woman in the world responded.

She came back with the scanner and as suspected, there was no chip.  I guess someone who doesn't spay or feed or bathe their dog doesn't bother with a chip.  

"Technically, we can take the dog because the county shelter is closed for the day and, we have space."  she said, smiling.

I started crying again.

"Will you have to transfer her there later?  Is she safe?" I pleaded.

"No.  We will not have to transfer her there.  She is safe."

"Can I give a donation?"  I responded.

"Yes!"  she said, laughing again.

I drove home, feeling elated.  In the days since, I drive by the shelter and think of the little dog curled up in a kennel and I hope that she is okay.  I hope that someone gets her and she has a good life.  I look at all the little trailers and buildings that make up the no-kill shelter and hope that all the animals are sleeping in little beds, warm.  

The Friday morning announcements crackled through the speaker on my trailer wall.  

"We have one last announcement!"  the librarian called out.

"We would like to shout out Ms. Wagner!  Ms. Wagner and Mr. B saved a dog!  And we would just like to thank Ms. Wagner for um, securing the dog..... securing the dog AWAY from us!"  

Too Young to Burn

"Hey, we have to meet for that girl from Panama.  Her mom's pissed.  She says her teacher is mean."
"Her teacher isn't mean."  I responded and kept running to my next class.

"Someone stole my bookbag!" Rafael informed me during morning tutorial.  

"How you going to turn in your homework?"  Jaime asked.

Rafael gestured toward Danny.  Danny pulled Rafael's homework folder from his book bag.  

"That was really nice of him to carry that for you."  I remarked.  

They put their headphones on and continued their work.  

I signed in to the online meeting with Ariel's mom.  I always want to think of her as the girl from Ipanema, even though she's from Panama.  I imagine her running on beaches in the bright sun, happy.  

"Wagner, you go first"  Ranier whispered to me.  

"Hey, it's good to see you again.  I'm Ariel's ESOL teacher, we met when you registered her.  Look, she's behind, but she's advancing.  She didn't know her alphabet when she got here, but now she does.  You told me they were online for a long time there and you know, kids here didn't do well with that either.  So, she's barely on a kindergarten level. There is a lot we all have to do."

"I bought her some stuff from School Box.  I'm working with her."  she responded.

"That's awesome."  I responded.

"It's going to take work at home and at school"

Rainier started whispering again.

YOUR TUTORIAL, she mouthed.

"I have a tutorial early in the morning."  I said.

"Ariel is welcome to come, we can do some extra work then."

"We have to put retention on the table."  Rainier interjected.

"She has to be reading by third grade.  We can revisit later, but it's important."

The homeroom teacher weighed in and everyone left satisfied.  

When we hung up, everyone sighed that "mean teacher" never even came up.  

"So, you'll pick up your breakfast and come on out to the trailer.  I'll be out there."

Ariel looked at me incredulously.

"COME AND MEET ME AT MY BUS!"  she said, eyes wide.

"Naw, it's okay.  I'll be in the trailer.  There are other kids that come out in the morning too, but....well, they are all boys and older than you..."  I said hesitantly.

Her eyes widened.

"CAN'T MURIEL COME!???"  she shrieked. 

"It'll be fine.  I'll be out there waiting for you."  I said with a smile.

I was running around the next morning before seven, catching up with a teacher that is going to be working with Danny.  After talking to her for a few minutes, I glanced at my watch.

"Shit,"  I said, "I have to run, he's going to be waiting for me."

I sprinted over to the cafeteria and saw Rafael and Danny heading for the doors with their trays.

"Hold on you guys, we have one more kid coming."  I said, scanning the cafeteria for Ariel.

"Be nice to her.  She's the only girl and she's younger than you."

Rafael pointed toward the outside.  There stood Ariel, alone in the dark in her little pink coat, staring at me with complete distrust and a little bit of laughter.  

"I AM SO SORRY!  All I tell are lies, Ariel, I'm sorry."

We made it to the trailer and everyone got to work.  I watched Rafael remove the poppit bracelet that he had bought from the school store and slide it toward Ariel.

"That's nice of you, Rafael, you know, to let her play with that."
"She can keep it." he responded and kept working.  

When it was time to leave, Rafael wordlessly handed Danny his folder to carry while he popped open his umbrella with his free hands and held it over both of them. 

And they all walked off to school.  

*Title, Sonny and the Sunsets

Not a Cloud in the Sky, Got the Sun in My Eyes

"So, who do you think would win in a fight, Marjorie Taylor Green or Lauren Boebert?"  I asked my brother in law.  Unfortunately, this thought had crossed my mind several times while watching the Republicans attempt to select a Speaker. 

"I mean, Taylor Greene has really meaty arms and she does Cross Fit, but....."  I continued.

"Definitely Lauren Boebert."  he answered.

"She's small and sneaky.  She'd bring some pointy thing into the fight that she wasn't supposed to have and poke your eyes out."  

"Yeah."  I said in agreement.

School resumed with a frenzy.  Because my school is on the bad list, we are having multiple meetings a week that take up our planning periods.  And, I am going into work at 6:45 in the morning because of the extra tutorial for Rafael and Jaime.  I wanted to add Jaime to the morning tutorial because his mom had asked for it, only to be told he wasn't eligible.  Well, now we had a new tutorial that he was definitely eligible for and I texted her to see if she could bring him in the mornings.  She agreed, as long as the tutorial was with me and not with another teacher.  I was flattered.  The first day of tutorial I walked up to the school in the dark and saw Jaime's dad's work truck, stacked with ladders, parked in front of the school to drop him off right on time.  My days are longer and really busy, but it's okay.  

I walked past the front office on the way to one of my classes and was frantically waved down by our registrar.  A couple with a little boy stood there with a stack of papers, trying to register their child.  They only spoke Spanish, so the registrar needed my help.  I looked at the transcripts and spoke to the parents.  Another child that had taken a long journey through various countries to arrive in the United States.  Strange dates that didn't add up, indicating gaps in his education.  He smiled at me shyly.  

Twenty-four hours later, multiple teachers were chasing me down, reciting the all familiar refrain:  "HE DOESN'T SPEAK ENGLISH!!".  I worked with him and did a quick math assessment on him.  I got back with some of the other teachers.

"Yes.  His English is limited, but this is where he is supposed to be.   I'll add him to my morning tutorial to try to develop his English.  But...language is only part of the problem.  He knows how to add and subtract, but breaks down with double digit subtraction when he has to regroup.  He hasn't heard of division and multiplication.  I'm not sure how he is in other subjects."

Why other teachers hadn't thought of simply assessing his abilities in the principal content areas is a mystery.  I guess it's easier to just say he can't speak English and assume I will fix it.  

Early the next morning, I had all three boys in my trailer around 7:00am.  Danny came in dressed differently, wearing a green bomber jacket and multiple rosaries, as if every talisman he could muster would protect him from this new place.

"You look cool."  I told him.

"Thank you."  he answered, shy smile still glued on his face.  

Later that afternoon, I saw two little faces peering at me from the school bus window.  It was Rafael and Danny, seated together, waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.  

I waved back and couldn't stop smiling myself.  

*Title, Top of the World, The Carpenters

A Message to You, Rudy

"Stop your messing around...better think of your future...." the song rang in my headphones, but not loud enough.  I was walking through the park and the fountain was frozen.

It's funny, but not funny.  Terry Hall died.  I always thought that the Specials were the coolest of the ska bands.  But you know what?  That was a long time ago.  I used to go to this place called the Metroplex.  I started going there when I was fourteen or fifteen.  It was downtown, and I loved it.  I couldn't drive and I would bum rides off anyone just to be there.  I saw tons of cool punk bands and it lead to this massive love of music that used to encompass all of my Saturdays, when my old best dead friend and I would spend the day going to every record store in town looking for albums, then eat burritos or pizza at the local places that aren't around anymore.  

Even when I was in my thirties, I would trudge up the hill in Tijuana, listening to "You're Wondering Now"  on my iPod.  A good friend of mine in college used to play that on an acoustic guitar, at Sylvia's Atomic Cafe in Candler Park.  It's obviously not there anymore.  

You never know how much you have lost until it's gone, Terry.  

These months have been weird.  World Cup occupied a lot of my non-work time.  I am not really into sports, but World Cup does something for me.  The Mexico national team does something for me.  I was shocked when Ochoa blocked the Polish goal, and I was on my feet, screaming.  I haven't felt something that spontaneous and real for a while.  

Lola's latest surgery came back non-malignant.  I cleaned the house and the car.   I took a super shower and plan to bathe Lola, too.  We will be clean and ready for the new year.  

Ready.  

*Title, The Specials

On Top of the World

"You are the one, you're the one in my heart, you're my darling, my life's greatest thrill...."  I sang lowly while trying to criss cross across traffic on the downtown connector.  Lola was barking loudly from the backseat, eyes red, afraid.  

She actually started calming down.

"My cherie amour...pretty as a summer's day...you're the only one that I adore, makes all the gray skies go away....."  I continued, making up lyrics as I tried to make it to the vet.  

She had a little surgery a week ago.  Thankfully, non-malignant, and I was trying to get her stitches out before the snow thunder cold tornado thing hit the southeast.  We have been going outside of the perimeter since her vet retired and Lola had cancer.   It sucks going out there, but I like this vet.  

I've been out of school for almost a week.  I'm a little stressed.  My students got their annual books, Hannukah has been a success, I have to keep watching my work email for Rafael paperwork, got the lights on the tree, hate mail from the new teacher that will be Rafael's teacher when we return and I needed to watch Lola so she wouldn't pull her stitches out and clean the house for my family's Christmas gathering.  And buy a bunch of presents and food.   

I kept waking up, worrying about getting Lola to the vet.  She can't wear her harness because of the location of her stitches.  Just a flimsy collar.  The vet is on a really busy road.  I'd lay there at five in the morning, thinking about it.  

"Ask your sister to come with you.  Or get those vet people to help you get her out of the car.  Don't do it alone."  Alec told me, repeatedly.  

I did it alone.  

The morning of Lola's appointment, I went to the Farmer's Market to get food and shit for the gathering, and a steak for Lola.  It was awful, but I was up and moving, even wearing my Golden Girls velour tracksuit and letting idiots crash their carts into me while I cage fought for the shit I wanted.  And then, when I was almost done, I reached into my purse and my wallet wasn't there.  I almost hid my cart under a shelf and ran away, but I knew I would only end up back again during Snowmaggeden and I had to get Lola to the vet.  I texted my sister.

"We are on our way with cash."  she responded.  

They were there in twenty minutes, epic Atlanta traffic navigation.

I unloaded the shit and got back in the car with Lola and sang my way through traffic.

She barked at the vet techs.  We all held her down while the pulled out the stitches.  One part wasn't all the way healed and we held her down again while the put some sort of skin glue on it so it would continue healing.  I don't like doing this to my dog.

I was glad that we were out of there, only the stressful journey home to go, during horrific traffic.  And then, Lola wouldn't get in the car.  She kept going between my legs, trying to pull out of her collar.  I kept staring at the street, knowing everything that I did was wrong.  It went on and on for probably fifteen minutes.  This was all my fault.  If  my dog got out of that collar, she would be in that street and dead.  And that, I can't take.  

The teenage girls that work the front desk of the vet finally came out.  They had the treats that my dumbass forgot and helped me get Lola in the car.  My chest was so tight I thought I was about to die.  I would have bought them Fetanyl if they asked me to, out of pure gratitude.  

I cleaned the house today, with Karen Carpenter helping me.  The whole place smells like Fabuloso and no one ever loved her, baby.   

I wish every one of you luck in the new year.  Beauty and love.  I honestly wish all of us everything.  

Rainy Days and Mondays

"YOU NEED TO CLEAN YO BUTT!"  the girl screamed in the middle of the math class I have to push-in to.  She was up, on her feet, one of the fighting girls from last year.  Big.  She could beat my ass in a minute.  

"HE TOLD ME I HAVE GINGIVITIS!"  she continued screaming.  

Gingivitis.  I never knew that was a big issue.  I really didn't care if she beat the other dickhead's ass.  I just kept trying to do math with my kids. 

"Everyone, I need you in the Media Center.  Five minutes.  It's important."  I heard the announcement and ran around the building until a door would accept my key card.  I don't prop the easiest doors open anymore.  We all used too, because the thingy is broken and it's a pain in the ass.  But, Uvalde.  

"I wanted you to hear this before you saw it on the news."  the administrator started.  Her voice broke.  She is not a crier.  Did someone die? Did someone get shot?

"We are on the list....the list...."

Oh god.  The list.  The one the DOE released a few days ago.  The list of the lowest performing, Title One schools in the state.  Yay us.  Bottom five percent of the worst schools in Georgia.  

"He gave my kids the finger!!!  He drew it on a paper and showed it to them!  He is insulting my students!"

He IS one of your students.  

I watched the meanest teacher in the school back Rafael into a corner, physically, for the second time in a week.  Screaming at him.  I watched Rafael's eyes, I knew he wanted to cry.  But, after you've crossed the Darién Gap, you learn to be tough.  

I watched Baby Gustavo organize the vis-a-vis pens in rainbow order.  The Hispanic kid that is not ESOL though everyone thinks he is grabbed the pens, sending several of them flying across the floor.  I picked them up and rearranged them in rainbow order.  Baby Gustavo looked at me and nodded.

"I'm OCD,  too."  he whispered.  

"HEY!  You're giving them the answers!" a teacher yelled at me while I tried to scaffold a lesson for one of my students.  

I snapped.

"You are denying them services.   They are in ESOL for a reason.  You barely let me pull them out, which is fine, but when I'm in that room you won't even let me speak to them.  They are in this program for a reason."

It was a full argument, in the hall, in front of other teachers and students.  And, it's not over.  

Rafael should have been in Intensive English.  I reached out to my coordinator when he arrived and we agreed that I was keeping him, because we both thought it would be too much change for him to change again.  I couldn't stop thinking about him, in that class, not being taught, those big eyes filling with tears.  

"So Rafael, my big mystery.  Tell me more..."  I sort of started.

"Well,"  he started in Spanish.  "We left when I was six."

He's almost nine now.

"The selva was awful.  Robbers.  It was not all felicidad."
"I'm sure it wasn't."  I responded.

"So, I went to this school in Chiapas for a minute.  They were racist."

"Because you're Black...."

"Yeah."

"I was in Tijuana, too." he continued.  

"Tijuana....I lived there....."  I responded.

"I was there twice, we got deported back there after we crossed."

"Oh Rafael.  I am so sorry."  

It was all I could say.  To think, he was in Tijuana, where I know so many people.  And he was there.  

Bottom five percent of schools in the whole state.  I thought of it over and over again.  And then, I emailed my coordinator.  We had to save him.  My school was not good for him.  

"CALL ME ASAP."  was the reply.  

I called her, while pacing in the same hallway where I argued with that teacher.  

"There are options.  We have to serve the whole child.   By the time they get Intensive English worked out the school year will almost be over.  There are options."

"Tell me."  I responded. 

"Are you willing to tutor him, before or after school?"

"Yes."  I responded.

"You should think about this."  she answered.

"I said yes.  I don't have to think about it."

"We are putting him in third grade.  He is only eight.  His birthday is on Christmas.  You will tutor him every morning from seven until seven forty-five, before your classes begin. You will be paid.  I am getting you a Rosetta Stone subscription.  Please stop crying, Ms. Wagner.  And, what is wrong with those people at your school?"

"I don't know."

*Title, The Carpenters

A Buen Hambre No Hay Mal Pan

I watched as the cold/flu spread through the faculty and students.  

"Y'all, I don't know if you saw our parking lot yesterday.  It was empty."  our principal announced during a quickie staff meeting.

"Thank you.  Just thank you.  Thank you so much for....coming today.  Lord, Ms. Kake had like, the whole first grade in one room and she doesn't even teach first grade.  Ms. Heard and Ms. Carr both had their babies and we have three more pregnant teachers on the way to leave.  Mr. Taylor got promoted to another school and Ms. Terry, well she quit.  Ms. Kent, you know she had a family member pass away and now she's got a pneumonia...."

It just went on and on and on.

"If y'all can eat with your classes in the cafeteria....I hate to ask but we have no one to do lunch duty.  You can leave the minute the kids leave at the end of the day if you could just eat in there.....you can wear jeans, too.  Whatever you want.....just come back, okay?'

And then, I got sick.

My phone started blowing up by about ten in the morning.  Texts from multiple people, apologizing, but filled with comments about a mysterious kid that showed up from Venezuela.  Mom didn't speak English.  No one knew what to do and they were using phone apps to communicate with them.  Getting him registered was apparently complicated.   I started looking up what stuff I could find on him from my couch.  The state longitude system wasn't telling me shit but I at least was able to start a transcript request. I came back to work the next day, even though I still felt shitty.  

I walked into the front office to sign-in and saw an anxious looking administrator standing there.

"I don't mean to jump on you right when you walk in but....." her eyes gazed to the left at a little girl and her mom sitting there.

"They're from Panama."

I don't usually get "off the boat" kids.  Most of my students were either born in the United States of immigrant parents or arrived as refugees or asylum seekers when they were less than five years old.  Now, I had two in one week. 

My mom's dog died recently.  I have avoided mentioning it because it is awful.  That is all that I have to say about that.  

"Wagner, your gonna have to help me.  That boy, Rafael, he won't keep his narrow butt in that seat.  He's up, all over the place, all the time.  He even started eating chips in the middle of class."  the meanest teacher in the school announced as soon as I walked through the classroom door.  

I stared at the little boy from Venezuela.  I was still trying to figure out why an eight year-old was placed in fourth grade, but I digress.  I told him quickly in Spanish that he should stay in his seat and not eat in class.   Then I looked back at the teacher, hoping she was satisfied.  

I sat next to the little boy and tried to talk to him a little.   His English was pretty good and his Spanish, obviously beautiful.  I asked him which town he was from in Venezuela.  He answered 'Caracas' like there was no other city in Venezuela.  When I asked him if he missed it, he breathed in deeply and responded 'yes'.  I looked at his clean but dingy short-sleeved white t-shirt and his skinny arms sticking out from it.  Wide, hyper eyes.  Funky street-wise, fake leather falling apart jacket slung over the chair.  Thin Mickey Mouse printed pants that appeared to be pajama bottoms.  And, a huge smile.  

They were just going to have to get used to his narrow butt and show some compassion.