Wednesday, February 09, 2005
The Thing More Important
Finally plowed through all those writing samples, and uncovered this gem from a boy in my nightmare class:
What I did in the another week
is.
I play alot basketball
I pla a lot of play station. I wend
to a lot of party, I smoke a lot weed. And the thing more
important. I fuck a lot and drink.
Lucky kid. I can't imagine a more perfect weekend.
Santiago, the distinguished author, is not a good student. Santiago cuts class. Santiago is often disruptive.
The other day Santiago, in response to me asking him to please sit down, replied, in so many words, that he would prefer to punch me in the face.
I walked over next to him and offered up my chin. He chickened out, but not before he thought about it.
This kid, it would seem, has some serious problems. You might expect him to spend a lot of time alone, brooding in the corner, wearing a black trench-coat, and building pipe-bombs.
Nope. Santiago is pretty popular. He joins in on all impromptu sing-alongs. He flirts with and pinches the screaming, cackling girls. He huddles in the hall joshing and flexing with menacing groups of guys. On the rare occasion when I’ve attempted to lead some sort of game in his class, he is an eager, enthusiastic participant, jumping up and down with excitement, slapping hands all around and even giving out the occasional bear hug.
He appears, in many ways, to be a happy, well-adjusted kid. A happy, well adjusted kid who spent last week drinking and fucking and smoking weed, wrote me a paragraph about it, and wants to punch me in the face.
Finally plowed through all those writing samples, and uncovered this gem from a boy in my nightmare class:
What I did in the another week
is.
I play alot basketball
I pla a lot of play station. I wend
to a lot of party, I smoke a lot weed. And the thing more
important. I fuck a lot and drink.
Lucky kid. I can't imagine a more perfect weekend.
Santiago, the distinguished author, is not a good student. Santiago cuts class. Santiago is often disruptive.
The other day Santiago, in response to me asking him to please sit down, replied, in so many words, that he would prefer to punch me in the face.
I walked over next to him and offered up my chin. He chickened out, but not before he thought about it.
This kid, it would seem, has some serious problems. You might expect him to spend a lot of time alone, brooding in the corner, wearing a black trench-coat, and building pipe-bombs.
Nope. Santiago is pretty popular. He joins in on all impromptu sing-alongs. He flirts with and pinches the screaming, cackling girls. He huddles in the hall joshing and flexing with menacing groups of guys. On the rare occasion when I’ve attempted to lead some sort of game in his class, he is an eager, enthusiastic participant, jumping up and down with excitement, slapping hands all around and even giving out the occasional bear hug.
He appears, in many ways, to be a happy, well-adjusted kid. A happy, well adjusted kid who spent last week drinking and fucking and smoking weed, wrote me a paragraph about it, and wants to punch me in the face.
