this morning, around 3 a.m. -- i'm 27 years old and i walk into my fifth grade classroom. instead of a sour mrs. taylor at the desk, however, is a cartoon version of my high school spanish teacher standing at the board. he's about 3 feet tall. for real. he is.
i introduce myself, hand him a pink slip of paper, and nervously move my notebook from one arm to the other. he raises a carefully balanced conductor's baton and aims it roughly at the back of the classroom. i expect this because, duh, i'm a W.
"please sit next to madonna," he says with a song, still pointing.
"ok." i make my way through three rows of empty desks and finally see my fellow classmates. i turn back around. "um, which one?"
February 17, 2004
February 16, 2004
kills on sight and generally unpleasant
"for here or to go?"
sage was trying to open a bag of chee-tos with her matter-of-month-old hands, but her mother was too busy ordering popcorn and pizza to notice. a phlegmy cough escaped the brown-eyed girl's lips. she might as well have projectile vomited on little courtney who wasn't much older, but was squatted three feet away, calling sage as if she was a dog.
"here sage, come here girl," she said in the sing-song voice of a little girl who didn't know any better. "come on!" she snapped her fingers as further enticement and looked over her shoulder for her mother's encouragement, but her mother was sitting by the garbage can. nursing courtney's sibling.
sage's mom turned around and took the chee-tos from her daughter. "not now, sage." sage looked at her without any understanding and coughed. almost straight up.
the trio made their way slowly through the rows of plastic chairs and booths. at least two more times, sage did the open-mouth coughing thing toward the imploring courtney as their mothers ate lunch together.
"look at me. don't i look great? i just got back from the Y." sweats, hat, tennis shoes.
"i really should get back into the routine." frumpy shirt, feet up, child resting on chest.
courtney wiped at her face with a little pink sleeve.
"sage, baby, stay away from courtney," her mom said. "we went to the doctor this morning."
"it's not contagious, is it?"
"actually," she said as if this was the punch line. "she is, but it should pass quickly. i just don't want her getting anyone sick."
more phlegm.
"ma'am? ma'am!"
"yes? i'm sorry ... what?"
"is this for here or to go?"
"oh, yeah. to go, please," i said.
sage was trying to open a bag of chee-tos with her matter-of-month-old hands, but her mother was too busy ordering popcorn and pizza to notice. a phlegmy cough escaped the brown-eyed girl's lips. she might as well have projectile vomited on little courtney who wasn't much older, but was squatted three feet away, calling sage as if she was a dog.
"here sage, come here girl," she said in the sing-song voice of a little girl who didn't know any better. "come on!" she snapped her fingers as further enticement and looked over her shoulder for her mother's encouragement, but her mother was sitting by the garbage can. nursing courtney's sibling.
sage's mom turned around and took the chee-tos from her daughter. "not now, sage." sage looked at her without any understanding and coughed. almost straight up.
the trio made their way slowly through the rows of plastic chairs and booths. at least two more times, sage did the open-mouth coughing thing toward the imploring courtney as their mothers ate lunch together.
"look at me. don't i look great? i just got back from the Y." sweats, hat, tennis shoes.
"i really should get back into the routine." frumpy shirt, feet up, child resting on chest.
courtney wiped at her face with a little pink sleeve.
"sage, baby, stay away from courtney," her mom said. "we went to the doctor this morning."
"it's not contagious, is it?"
"actually," she said as if this was the punch line. "she is, but it should pass quickly. i just don't want her getting anyone sick."
more phlegm.
"ma'am? ma'am!"
"yes? i'm sorry ... what?"
"is this for here or to go?"
"oh, yeah. to go, please," i said.
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