So far today it's 85 and humid.
Fallon comes in with tears in her eyes.
While I'm outside the door learning that her grandfather's dead, and no she doesn't want to talk about it, Jamarria tries to steal Darius's cereal.
Milk, everywhere, when I come back in. Free breakfasts are a nice concept, but here I'm paid to be the lunch lady, the custodian, and the teacher. Just call me "Mom." Yo momma. No, yours.
20 minutes later we're still trying to explain, in fifth grade, what peninsulas are, and how to draw upside-down V's for mountains.
Antonio raps that his braids are too tight, so he can't think right.
When I tell Fallon to keep her shoes on, Antonio's instantly pop off.
Fifth graders will always tell you that their feet hurt.
I tell them they chose to wear those shoes, but in reality, they didn't.
In reality they have as little choice as Sha'Carr, afraid to come to school in the mornings because a strange man was parked outside the house, waiting for her.
Black wheels ominously swallowing the cracked cement behind her, he watches while a terrified ten-year-old runs to school.
There is no rock between the hard places, not in these lives, and I know it.
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2 comments:
this is great stuff!
where are you? what are you doing?
keep writing about it like you've done here.
detroit public schools, teaching 5th and 8th grade in one of the southernmost middle schools in the city. we only have 3 days left, but this is all true to what happened in the course of about 15 minutes yesterday. except the man following sha'carr to school, which happened friday. bah. i want to beat him, whoever he is.
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