here’s a sample of my week with the kids:

one girl told me how a teacher said to her “maybe they do that in ARABIA but they don’t do that over here” in response to her coming to class without a pass. i believed the girl.

multiple students swearing:  “bitch, fuck, damn,” etc. it’s pretty much the way they talk. try getting them to stop.

many students faces lit up when they asked if i was staying and i said “yes.” that pleased me. they do care, whether they want to pretend or not that they don’t.

one girl over and over and over (like, 100x) said “i’m thirsty” to get attention. i talked to her and suggested that perhaps if she changed her tactic (since obviously we were ignoring her negative-attention-seeking behavior [yes, that's what i called it to her face]) she might be more likely to get what she wanted. like, turn around, sit down, stop pressing your face on the glass of the media lab and be quiet. she did what i said, but managed to tell another teacher that i told her to “shut up” –no darlin’, but that would have been enjoyable.

the student rolling around the library in a rolling chair, disrupting everyone. remember how i said i’d lock them all up? {the chairs, not the kids), well, i did it. wow. what a difference.

and the kicker today at the end of the day?

a spec ed kid comes up to me and we have a nice conversation about books, and he says, “dyou hear about that shooting last night?”

i say no, but he tells me the address and i say, oh that’s where this amazing church is i saw last fall. it’s BEAUTIFUL inside. he looks at me like he can’t believe it, and i assure him it’s true. we talk about that for a bit, then this:

“well i was on the street with my friend, walking to the store, when that guy and this lady got shot. we had to drop down to the ground. they was just laying there and then all the police came.”

jesus. i talked to him some more about all of that. i was glad he told me. i think he was glad too.

sigh. it’s the city. that last conversation, is a big reason i came back. i miss these kids. the stuff they see and deal with, well, most of us can’t imagine.