Archive for December, 2009

30
Dec
09

True Rosaschi ll

An honest life of
Straight talk, brash and keen;
He was True in death as well.

30
Dec
09

Eileen

Though death takes you now,
Your indelible smile
We will ever hold.

27
Dec
09

Catherine Wheel

She knows not her mind;

Her thoughts a catherine wheel

Of sparkling chaos.

25
Dec
09

1A: Little Freaking Zen Masters

My first class of the day is a group of three first graders. I’ve dubbed this class “1A” because I had to call it something. The system this academy uses to distinguish one class from the next is to simply call the class by the name of one of the students. This is fine and well for those classes wherein no student leaves the academy or transfers to another class; but students do migrate, and many students share the same name, so I needed a system to identify my classes. The 1 stands for first grade, the A for the fact that they are my first, first grade class.

I don’t normally like teaching kids this young, as they tend to have minimal English skills and a maximum quotient of innocent disrespect for their teachers. They’re first graders after all, full of energy and joy and a desire to play and generally goof off. But the kids that comprise this class are unique. All of them speak English quite well, and while they are all predisposed to defying my suggestions and orders, they nevertheless can –  with a strong dose of patience and perseverance on my behalf – be corralled into a semblance of order and focused education. They’re also sweet and amusing, so I like them, and feel fortunate that my days start out with them.

The three kids are Kai, Connor and Sally. They are all eight years old by Korean reckoning, which means come January 1st, 2010, they will all be nine, since all Koreans get one year older on the first of the year. In Western parlance, they are six going on seven.

Kai is the most unruly of the bunch, but he’s also an endearing fellow, in a taxing sort of way. Despite my repeated requests against such things, he keeps bringing food into the classroom, and tops and Pokeman cards and other childhood detritus. He’s not much for studying. He’d much rather spin a top on the Formica table or puts stars on the board next to his name so that they’ll cancel out the “X”es I always give him for “bad” behavior. (Three exes and you go out of the room, holding your hands above your head for three minutes) But he does it in a playful, “I can’t help myself” sort of way that is generally accompanied by a sheepish smile when he gets caught –  which is always. He’s a pain in the ass, truth be told, but when he zeros in on you – or his work, forsooth! – he’s a really beautiful kid. And that smile he’s got is just ridiculous.

Continue reading ‘1A: Little Freaking Zen Masters’

25
Dec
09

Holiday Greetings

Happy Holidays!

May there be mirth, joy and peace

For all those you love.

23
Dec
09

Book 2 ~ Entry 23

I’m sitting at the park across from Reggie’s housing complex. He’s supposed to meet me here with a quarter ounce of pot. I busted up my piggy bank (I’m a little old for a piggy bank anyway) and even snatched five bucks from Grannie’s purse so I would have enough. She just got paid, so I don’t think she’ll miss it, unless Garret goes for some too. Of course she’s senile so we can just remind her that she gave money to those religious freaks that are always coming to our door – even though she didn’t of course.

Granny’s getting battier every day. Usually she only talks to Jesus when she’s in her room, looking at the painting on her closet door. But lately she has been talking to him all the time, no matter where she is. It’s usually about how bad her grandchildren are and why he stuck her with such hoodlums. She’ll pause for an answer while looking up in the sky, then nod her head. Then she’ll turn and glare at us, as if Jesus just gave her a great and terrible idea for punishment. Just the other day she snuck into Garret’s room while he was asleep and busted a wooden spoon over his head. He had it coming of course. After shooting her in the leg with the staple gun he’s lucky she didn’t staple his mouth closed. Good thing she doesn’t know how to use a staple gun.

Reggie was over the other day and he farted right in front of her. He’s always farting of course. It’s all those refried beans he eats, so he can’t help it. But he was standing right next to her in the kitchen when he let out a long, juicy ripper. She looked at him aghast, wagged her finger at him and said, “There’s a time and place for that young man!” Poor Reggie had no idea what she was talking about. He hadn’t learned yet that in our house, if you have to fart, you go to the bathroom. At least that’s how Granny wants it. Garret and I usually pass silent ones if we’re near her. That way she can’t know who did it. We can even say it was her, which really gets her riled up.

Reggie wanted to get revenge, so two days ago he brought a whoopie cushion to the house. He blew it up and put it under the sofa cushion, right where Granny always sits. We were sitting in the living room while Granny was boiling apples, then she came and sat down on the sofa and the whoopie cushion went, “bluuuuuup!” We all turned and looked at her in unison, with fake surprise on our faces. Poor Granny had this confused look on her face like she just shat her pants, but it couldn’t be possible since she didn’t recall shitting. Garret then wagged his finger at her and said, “Granny! There’s a time and place for that.” She waddled off to the toilet to check her panties, I guess. We laughed our heads off, and we weren’t even high.

I did get high with Reggie again yesterday. It was totally cool. We went to the beach and watched the sunlight reflect off the water, and watched the spray of the waves shoot into the sky. The sandpipers play chicken with the waves. Garret wasn’t around, which meant that we didn’t have to listen to his know-it-all talking all the time. We just sat in silence, or walked along the beach pointing and ooohing and laughing. Man, the world is so much more interesting on pot.

Dad’s coming home tomorrow from his business trip. I’m going to have to find a safe place to hide my weed. That is if Reggie ever shows up. I already gave him my money. Now I am wondering if he just made off with it. He’s pretty cool for a Mexican, but some of his friends don’t like me. Maybe they just took my money and told Reggie to quit hanging out with Gringos. They don’t like Gringos in general, I think. The other day down by the Thrifty, that big scary dude with the permanently bloodshot eyes, Pedro, beat the shit out of Chris LeCour just because. Man, I could beat the shit out of Chris LeCour, not that I ever would. But it goes to show you how mean some of these dudes can be.

I’ve been waiting here for half an hour now. I’m starting to get paranoid. Maybe the pigs have caught Reggie. They’re always going after the Mexicans. Reggie’s brother, Raul, is in jail. I don’t know what for because Reggie won’t say. He just says he’s innocent and the cops have it in for the wet backs, even thought they aren’t wet backs. I always thought Raul was a cool guy. Kinda weird thinking about him in jail.

Oh, here comes Reggie. I hope he scored.

22
Dec
09

Vacant Lots

Little brown dead weeds

In fields of trash and stone ~

Spring’s dormant splendor.