A Bass Clarinet and Microwaved Totino’s

I rarely did I get in trouble growing up as a kid. It wasn’t really my tempo. I received a demerit once in 7th grade for forgetting my notebook and bawled my eyes out for 10 minutes until my teacher just told me to forget about it. The priority from 5th grade through the rest of grade school was to do the best I could but with minimal effort, so I had enough time to play video games. That’s it, cut, dried out, and laid out ready to sell on the market. That’s not have school works though apparently. Reminiscing on this past school year and my reentry to teaching had brought up my intentions and goals from when I was 13***. During in-person school I got pushed , shoved, insulted, teased, berated, cursed at, embarrassed, belittled. And I always wondered why? From 7th grade through high school I made my best efforts to not sit in the lunch room. The only time I met the principal (unless being acknowledged for being black and mild to win “student of the month”) was when the security guards thought my “FUBU” shirt was a gang-affiliated shirt. FYI it was the shirt Ludacris’ “Area Codes” video. But I had to consider, would Jon aka Nyles during during middle school and 1 year of high school fair well being online ? Consider the following: 1. Parents whooping me for the thought of failing a class (check) 2. Stable internet connection (well I used to use dial up for my Nintendo DS Lite so semicheck) 3. The intrinsic need to do well to do well and being able to read independently (check) 4. Shutting the frick up and getting my work done so I can go play Metroid Prime Hunters on my DS Lite until my godmother called, making me lose my connection? (Double check) I don’t think it’s fair to assume that it would go smoothly. Just a reminder of why the kiddos are even here in the first place. All the pain and tragedy that is going on isn’t fair. Some parents are right around my age and have been getting their butts handed to them. Some kids can’t even get food unless they get to school. I had all those resources growing up, so it is easy for me to sit and here and just flex because I just wanted to sit in the library and do homework before I got home. At the same time I have a lot of faith in kids, as I have to since I teach 7th grade. I want them to do well and succeed and no amount of takis or positive reinforcement or Tim Duncan school promos are going to help if they don’t have the right support system. And for now, I’ll be their Dollar Tree version of Ms. Frizzle

***The picture is showing me at the age of 13, celebrating my best friend’s 14th birthday party***

101 Ways They Call You The N-Word

They cheered when he won. Chanted too. Cried tears of joy. Laughed. You would have thought they had just won a Vince Lombardi trophy. Would have thought someone just got down on one knee and proposed in the middle of a skating ice rink. Everyone stopping to stare at the lovely couple. So much energy, so much constant energy, (Apologies, I didn't even somewhat re-read this for edits!) I mean I cried too. You would have thought I was a Squirtle on how hard I cried. And I am a beautiful crier, as elegant as Michael Jordan with the right-left switch back in '91. I had so much energy. So much energy I ran for 5 miles at 10pm on a Tuesday night. Can you imagine having your friends tell you how racist their parents are and then just not correcting them? These are people who may hire me or at least insult me before they fire me. Correct them every single time, like how I correct myself when prompted. That was a few years ago when I lived in racist couple's garage in Portsmouth. I remember they were racist because on how they cried when he won and how quickly they asked me to leave because I repeatedly insulted their president. I wasn't trying to be rude, it's just my coworker had told me "he would have killed me if I was Trayvon and he was Zimmerman" about two days after that election. I remember when he told me, it was so natural; like the same tone and confidence when you order a Zaxby's Club from Zaxby's. Almost effortless. I am fast forward two months later, a property manager sued me for $6,500 in rent, after I refused to be pay $650 in rent for two months. Not that I know much about housing discrimantory practices, but the tub above mine fell threw my own tub. I had to shower at planet fitness. I wished the roaches would chip in on rent, they were running up my electricity bill. My coworkers at the time ranged from a white guy who just graduated Tech to some other guy who graduated from UVA and I didn't like talking them. Like never ever. They spoke of all these political issues and such like it didn't directly affect minorities. It was, uh, disgusting. They spoke about Flint like it was a tissue filled with wadded-up gum. They spoke about the school "which I eventually ended up working at" as though it was discounted Skechers. Like those people who do mission trips to remote parts of the world to go do selfies but aren't allies for anyone who doesn't look like they shop at Target exclusively. Excuse me, I believe it's Tarjay, I am not sure of where politics began and but I do know that people talk with a little bass in their voice when they are wrong. Especially when they are super duper wrong. It's weird right? Some people be backpeddling like Aaron Glenn when they're wrong, straight off into a cliff. Some people will throw them a rope but they start digging a hole like they are diglett, wondering why everyone is "attacking them". If someone says you offended them, it is not up to you to decide if they're right. It is up to you to shut up and listen, Terry Crews. And sometimes it is too late Carolyn Bryant. I wonder if that is why I love horror films so much. It's almost satire on how I think I'm the protagonist of my own movie and that I will not be the first person to be killed in the first part of the movie. THe intro is all nice and go-lucky and heart-warming then everything gets taken away from me. Because someone and some curse, yadda-yadda and I'm that missing kid from the flier or taken from my family unexpectedly. I was minding my own business, now some demonic spirit has recarnated itself into my body and now I'm somehow the bag guy off of what someone else did. Funny, right? Right?