Dehan we'alki

"From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you. And now that I'm with you again... I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you--I can't breath. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating... hoping that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... What can I do?--I will do anything you ask."

-Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars, Episode II

Blame the Jews

I thought that would be a very inflammatory title. It is not completely random and is meant to be taken tongue-in-cheek. Maybe if ur smart u'll understand why by post's end.

So, I realize that I haven't talked about school in a long while on this thing. Prolly because I try to lock those thoughts away for as long as possible. That said, I felt the need to communicate to the 4 people who read the blog some details from my life, which is 95% school.

Thursday, I threw ("tossed" is prolly a better word) a bagel at a student and it hit him in the eye. Now i'm in a lotta trouble.

Welcome to Tilden. The End.

The Triumvirate is complete

It's been a long time coming, but finally, I can die a happy man. I am now the proud owner of 3 of the greatest pairs of sneakers ever made. Presenting (l to r) the Nike Flightposite 1 in gold, the Nike Penny Foamposite, and the Air Jordan V in black and metallic grey. I'll give u one last look at the soles (consider it a metaphor of some sort).

oh, so icy. maybe now, i can finally save my dough.

It's a sickness. I know.

You don't have to know me for long before you realize that I have a severe addiction to shoes. I'm a "sneakerhead." I can tell you more about tennis shoes than you could tell me about your life. That said, being on salary has not helped my obsession. Indeed, coming back to the East Coast, in the sleeper city of Philly, it's been a little too easy to find the shoes I want when I want them. Once (at the second hand store I shop at), I found the shoes pictured here, a pair of Nike Air Trainer 3's Limited Edition Viotechs (I know, it's sneaker-speak) for $26. $26!! That may mean nothing to you, but these shoes have appreciated to around $250-$350 on ebay, and I found a nice-but-used pair for $26.

Add to all this that Nike decided to release two of my all-time favorite shoes ever within one week's time; so ya boi now has a much smaller bank account to match the ever-decreasing amount of space in his closet.

Regrets? not really. I'm happy with pretty much every purchase I made. Even though you outsiders prolly think I'm crazy. And I am. I realize this. But I love it.

So without further ado, I present to you, 2 out of 3 of my grails, shoes I have longed for since childhood and now can finally bask in the joy of knowing that I own. The third will be purchased by Friday, God-willing.

If you're a sneakerhead and you don't own a pair of Jordans, then you're not a real sneakerhead. If it wasn't for #23, the sneaker game wouldn't even exist. We'd be trading Pokemon cards or something.

As for Air Jordans, we all have our favorites, the XI's are by far the most popular, but for me there was always one pair that I loved and desired: The black and silver V's. With their simple elegance, icy soles and reflective tongue, they were beyond words. If the XI's were the Lamborghini's of Jordans, the V's were the Bentley: stately, refined, and beautiful. Look at how icy those soles are!

I just purchased these retro's this past saturday. One of the happiest purchases ever in my life.

If you're from the Washington, DC metropolitan area, then you know that Chocolate City is the home of the Foam and Flightposites. The first pairs of Nikes fetching for $150-$200, these shoes were part of DC's uniform. By far, the most beautiful out of the entire series is the Flightposite 1. A clear evolution from the previous Foamposite shoes, the Flightposite 1 captured in a beautiful silhouette the form of the foot, not to mention that the original two colorways, gold (pictured here) and eggplant, were equally stunning.

No doubt, it's a polarizing design, but either you abhor it or you abso-friggin-lutely love it, and I love it. I happened upon these on ebay at a very decent price (not $26 though, :-p) and have yet to put them on.

Finally, the 3rd shoe in the triumvirate of grails has yet to be purchased because it has yet to be released. The Penny Foamposites, have the icy soles of the Air Jordan V and the foamposite upper of the Flightposite 1, with no swoosh. These are the only shoes where I can remember the exact time I first saw them on someone. It was Miami, Florida, summer of 1997. I was over at somebody's house and saw a bunch of boys running through the street. One of them had those shoes on. He was gone as quick as I saw him, but the image of those shoes have been emblazoned in my mind ever since. They will complete the triumvirate. That is, unless I get the eggplant Flightposite 1's too. :-p

And oh, did you notice the selvage? hehe... so fly.

You should think about it; take a second... *ding!*

"The Great Artist may in fact be the socially useful narcissist"

"Most people think Narcissism is just being stuck-up and self-centered, but in the extreme it means there is no one else in the person's world with them--intense loneliness."

So, to my fellow Artists, do u have what it takes to be Great?

I think I'm in love

http://www.apple.com/iphone/ipod/

looks like i'll be switching to cingular. (never liked t-mobile anyway)

Blame Jeffrey

so i'm not as much of... how do i say... an "open book" as the young Taylor, but i must admit that reading his stuff, listening to Lupe, Clipse, and others, and the fact that i live by myself (translation: too much time spent thinking) have all amalgamated to end what had been a pretty extended writer's bloc. it's not like i had been tryna write that much, but i was more or less uninspired and unable to produce anything worth looking at for at least a year.

Well, the levees have broken and with them have come all the internal conflicts that breed the stuff I don't call prose. will u understand it? maybe. maybe not. could i make it more understandable and less guarded? yeah, probably. but i'd rather confuse u and leave u conflicted. is that a good thing? prolly not. iunno.

*note*: above is an example of me thinking too much. i digress.

so anyways, i've been writing more over the past 3 or 4 months and blame it on JV Taylor that i decided to put some up here. what can i say, i need an outlet. but i will not give dashiki-and-incense-laden introductions like the aforementioned individual has been known to do. all things are open to criticism (good and bad) and questions and interpretations (but if ur off, i'll let u know).

This one is a lot rougher than the first 2, but i'm bored. wrote it mid-november.

Tilden Dreams

I wonder—with the future before me,
at a desk here, walking there, never silent—
what happened to my dreams?

Wrapped in cellophane or spoiled
(because everything has a “sell by” date,
a shelf life)? There were always many
lofty, as they dreams must be, like an attic
in an old house, or this building where
I stand in front of dreamers who have no idea
they’re sleeping.

It makes sense
that the top floor is off limits. We’re one beneath it.
Besides, it’s filled with feathers
and perhaps the remains of a pigeon or two.
But I will remind myself and my dreams:
even birds have limits, wings can be burdensome,
and that star I wish upon may be filled
with souls that wish upon my own planet from a distance.

So I wonder—with the future before me,
at a desk here, walking there, never silent—
what happened to my dreams?

Like long lines in the cold, breath collecting
before my face to warm the tip of my nose
for a jackpot or an elusive ticket to a candy factory,
were some of them lost
before I had ever discovered them?

With so many black plastic bags tangled in tree branches, I can tell
they never take the time to notice packaging,
and the bags crackle in the wind like blown speakers, like static
from TV. Looking down from my window, I mistake them
for a flock of crows, as I’m sure
they would mistake a crow for a plastic bag in a tree.
It makes sense.

The desks are empty, I cannot hear them anywhere
but in my head. Still, I know that they are speaking
of the past, as the future always does, in spite of itself.

I wonder how long it will take
to sweep up feathers and excrement: the future
is as impatient as a dream.

Call it the "winter itch"

The first day

Some stood like axes on the wall,
Others more like guillotines
I have so much to learn
I stood, the only clean blade in a cutlery
until responsibility forced me to draw blood.
This is not new to you, is it? You expected more.
By day’s end, soaked in red,

I questioned myself.

I am not a soldier,
was never a fighter,
how did I end
up in the midst of a war?

This eighty year old brick building
is a fortress that only contains
the confusion of the street corners;
lives that carry the names of the fallen like their ink-
stained backpacks: those are forgotten too,
left at home.

Aware of their place, they are huddled, looking
like freshly washed swine in a mosque,
and I am a bayonet named Moira.

Lest I forget...

In my rant about music of 2006, I forgot to highlight the fact that DC is (finally) putting out some authentic home-grown talent worth listening to. There is of course Mr "Put Me in the Pocket" Tabi Bonney, but the real breakout is Wale. Dude is a monster. He's signed to Studio 43, the upstart label founded by former Rocafella VP (and DC native) Kenny Burns, and deserves real attention. Download his mixtape (for free!) here http://www.studio43group.com/mp3/hate_is_new_love.zip

and if ur into it, holler at his myspace page, http://myspace.com/wale202. Tabi Bonney's got one too, but i'm too lazy to put a link up. Google him and you'll find it.

The future is here

Happy New Year ppl. Unlike most ppl, this is the final day of my short Winter Break. It felt much longer though and, aside from the fact I didn't get any work done, I have no complaints. Reflecting on the year that was, I thought about a lot. 2006 was definitely a watershed in many ways. I won't add to that; a man's gotta keep some things to himself, right?

So, I have no witty transition, but one of the many things in my head about this past year was "Is hip-hop really dead?" I mean, Nas's (great) album said so, and we all know that we should listen to Nas. And aside from the pure art of it, Rap isn't even selling like it used to. I read somewhere that there was only one multi-platinum rap album this year. ("Ugh!" as Pusha T would say).

And then there's the "future" of rap, Jim Jones (no comment) and DipSet, Lil Wayne, who seems to have fallen victim to his own talent such that he believes he can be mentioned in the same breath as Jay or Nas (maybe i'll expound on this in another post), and is there anyone else worth mentioning?

Well, prolly so. While I'm not sure it was better than Lord Willin', Clipse came hard on Hell Hath No Fury. Too bad it won't get the commercial attention it deserves, which is strange considering they're the ones who blew the doors open on commercialized cocaine rap with grimy rhymes that didn't compromise themselves for commercial success. I'm a firm believer that Lord Willin' is not just a classic but durn near a masterpiece. (Is either The Carter or The Carter 2 better than Lord Willin'? I don't think so, Weezy. And can we come up with more creative album titles, dood? Ur getting lazy like Hov, but you still don't have two-thirds the swagger.) With the exception of "Nightmares," I don't think the beats on HHNF live up to the rhymes.

And then there was St. Elsewhere, the Cinderella album of the year. It was a breath of fresh air from market-driven collaborations and cookie-cutter hip-hop (yes, hip-hop). Cee-lo has always been one of rap's most poetic voices Dangermouse went bonkers, like "tripping balls" as white ppl say, on those beats. It was a masterpiece and a classic. Too bad the media hype frenzy ate them along with their album. "Smiley Faces" shoulda been #1 twice as long as "Crazy." That's not a slight to "Crazy" which--forgive me--was crazy, but rather a nod to how vicious "Smiley Faces" was. But alas, the world is a strange place.

Then there were other albums, Kingdom Come and Hip Hop is Dead along with Idlewild, from heavyweights. The Outkast album was a dissapointment, and even I'll admit that Jigga is rusty. (He's still better than Weezy. "Minority Report," "Lost Ones," "Prelude," "Beach Chair"--i hate the beat, but peep the lyrics--Big Homey did make a mature album. Just that some of it is lazy. Dude's not pushing himself.) But can I give a shoutout to two standouts from both albums...two names: Janelle Monae and Chrisette Michele. All I can say about Janelle Monae is that she's a monster. I remember the first time I heard John Legend's Knitting Factory CD sophomore year. This girl had me feeling as excited as that when I heard some of her stuff this summer (and i was siced when I found the Knitting Factory CD). So allow me to become her hypeman for 2007. And I doubt Chrisette needs a hypeman, she's signed to DefJam. But all i can say is that her hook on Nas's "Can't Forget" was mean and vicious.

And Nas? I may be one of the only ppl who thought his last double album was actually good, but either way, this one is not debateable. He really got it right with this one. It's consistent and the flow--the rhyme patterns and meter--is crazy on some of his tracks.

But still, with all this talk about hip-hop dying, I had to say that there was a beacon of light, the Hip-Hop Resucitator, if you will. Born Wasalu, my choice for hands-down Album of the Year was Food and Liquor. I don't care what you think, if you don't agree with me on this one, you're just wrong. This isn't opinion, it's fact. Food and Liquor deserved 5 mics. Was it a perfect album? Heck nah, but it was a masterpiece. It was the album that bridged the ghetto and the Black middle class. It was critical of itself, its culture, and dominant culture all at once. There were stories, (my goodness, were there stories!), rapper braggadocio, and real lyricism. It was "real" hip-hop. But not in the way that old heads speak of the olden days of A Tribe Called Quest, P.E., Rakim, et al. No, it was real Hip-Hop for a changed people, a changed hip-hop. For the growing number of black professionals as well as those high school dropouts. For the suburban kids who pout when they don't get their PS3's and the kids at Tilden whose parents spend welfare checks on 8-balls (real rap, not making this up). But all in all, it was intelligent, which, in the end, was its downfall. The program directors, A&R's, and music execs still don't know (or want to know) how to market music that you actually have to listen to. Music that makes you think has no real place in our culture anymore, or at least you would think that with all this durn snapping and leaning. I mean really, the only commercially successful rapper in this era of hip hop who could make you think was Kanye, and he (has) had to be a gorrilla (as well as an arrogant butthole) to get there. And really when you think about it, I doubt he'da gotten where he is without being his own #1 fan.

But it's not about Kanye, it's about the Fiasco. I have to admit, I slept on Food and Liquor at first. Although the retail version was much better than the first version that leaked on the internet (thank God whoever leaked it and forced him to go back in the studio. And thank you Lupe for not being lazy and going back into the studio), I just didn't give it the attention it deserved. But as I would play it while I was doing something in my apartment, I found myself stopping here and pausing there, going back to the computer and rewinding a verse like "did he say what I thought he said?"

Yes, he did.

Verse of the year, from "Daydreamin'":
Now c'mon everybody, let's make cocaine cool
We need a few more half-naked women up in the pool
And hold this Mack-10 that's all covered in jewels
And can u please put your titties closer to the 22's?
And where's the champagne? We need champagne!
Now look as hard as you can with this blunt in your hand
And now, hold up your chains, slow motion through the flames,
Now cue the smoke machines and the simulated rain
But not too loud cuz the baby's sleepin
I wonder if it knows what the world is keepin
Up both sleeves while he lay there dreamin
Me and my robot tiptoe round creepin
I had to turn my back on what got you paid
I couldn't see, had the hood on me like Abu Ghraib
But I'd like to thank the street that drove me crazy
And all the televisions out there that raised me
I was...

Like i said, on this one, if you don't agree, you're just wrong. 8-)

Tabi Bonney Video

I love DC. this is one of the greatest songs to ever come outta Chocolate City. It's the DC equivalent to Jim Jones "Ballin'". Holler at me if u want the full mp3.

"i been outta school for like... 10 semesters." LOL! put me in the pocket joe!

The craziest dream i ever had.

Ok, so it's like 4am here and i just had to get up cuz i had by far the strangest dream EVER and i needed to write it down so that i never forgot. sadly, some of it i already forgot but i still have a lot of the good stuff.

It was a long dream but i'll pick up from here:

Me and a group of ppl, (i don't remember who they were) walked into someone's apartment and started to just hang out and look around. At one point, one of them asked if it was okay if he went outside to test his bike out that he just built (don't ask). The other two found a couch and sat down to watch tv. I went to the back bedroom and walked around and ran into some ppl from high school. There was a computer in there.

Suddenly, the back bedroom became a large computer showroom. It looked like a computer lab except the computers were for sale. I was using one of the computers and one of my friends (he was a friend in my dream, but not somebody i know in real life) was to my left doing something on another computer. He had been there before me.

Then a mother and daughter walked into the computer lab/showroom with what looked like a sales sheet or catalog. They were speaking a different language to each other. The mother was white and kinda portly and her daughter was white and plain ole weird looking. When the daughter walked in her face showed that she was utterly confused with what was going on. The mother, it seemed was also confused and was trying her best to explain what these computers were to her daughter.

Then the mother started to touch the computer next to me. They were nice computers and some of them, mine included, had wireless keyboards.

Well, she took my keyboard. She reached over and took it right from under me, as innocently as one could possibly do such a thing, and sat it next to her. I watched her sit it down randomly on something (can't remember what) and continue to talk to her daughter who was still confused. I then tried to get it back.

"Excuse me," I said politely but perturbed, "I need that."

The mother and daughter both looked at me confused and did not seem to understand what i was saying. But in broken english she said to talk to her husband who was just walking into the computer lab/showroom.

When he walked in, he walked over to me and sat down in the seat where my friend had been. (I guess my friend knew what was about to happen so he left...figures.)

"Hello, sir, where are you all from?" was my first question.

"Germany," he said in a thick accent. His english wasn't good either, but it was better than his wife's.

"Do you not have computers where you are from?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

"Well, these are computers, and part of the computer is a keyboard." I pointed to the one at the computer where he was sitting. "Your wife kinda took mine and won't give it back."

Suddenly the man started breathing heavily through his nostrils. "I don't like where this is going," he said softly with anger.

"Security!" I said quickly. This dude was about to blow and it wasn't gonna be on me.

As security walked up, I backpedalled to the opposite side of the lab/showroom. Then, the german man proceeded to roar and start fighting with security. Then dude chased me around the store until more security got to him and they started rumbling. This was the craziest part of the dream but i think the whole family was fighting somebody. All i know was that it was pandemonium inside that store. I was making a joke out of it at first, but when dude seriously started to try to beat my ___, i seriously got shook.

Finally, i snuck out of the store and tried to run as fast as i could, but for some reason, i could only run at half-speed, so i eventually stopped. The store (which was at first an apartment) was now part of a mall and i walked through one of the mall entrances and looked nervously from face to face to make sure it wasn't the crazy german family. Then i walked back outside and tried to call my sister, who had been with me at some point of the dream, but no one picked up. Then i remembered that my sister had left her phone at 4th and market earlier in the dream (weird how the dream connected what happened earlier and didnt forget about it right?).

It was okay either way though because I ran into my sister as i was walking from the mall and then into two of my high school friends, Akeisha and Beri, who are now deltas. They just so happened to be with all their sorority sisters outside eating cheesecake. (yes, i know). I said what's up to them and started to tell each of them about what happened but i would always get cut off and then ignored (just like high school, right? lol) Eventually everybody shut up and let me talk and so i started to tell them how I was in a computer store and somebody tried to beat my up, and for some reason i was telling the story with my eyes closed. When i opened my eyes the only person still there was my sister, eating cheesecake so I stopped telling the story, shrugged and took the last piece of cheesecake and a raspberry that was sitting on the platter dish. After that, we walked into a park where some woman was playing a piano concert and talking about World War II.

Then I woke up.

I never slip. I never fall.

Back in business. My new monitor is (vicious and) working. Now i can go back to procrastinating from the comfort of my own home!

:-/

Oh, and my life is cinematic. Just thought u should know. Details are unnecessary. Last week before Christmas break!

I tried to told yall...

A reprieve from the abstruse complexities of teaching.

sometime while i was teaching, 10 deep blew up like woah. Jeezy's wearing a hoody in his newest video, and i saw their gear in almost every hood shop on South Street last weekend. I remember when it was a small skate/streetwear brand u could only find in a few shops. I can't lie though. Fall/winter '06 is real hot. especially for the thinking man...

oh the irony...

For those who don't get this one. The pic is made of different shoe boxes.

I feel like i'm selling old stock info...

Philthy Philly

There's something about living in the buttcrack of America (or at least dealing with those who live there). I think about my students. One of the worst things to say to someone during a bathroom break is to say that they're bout to "take a smash" (translation: "take or dump" or "have a bowel movement" as my mother would say). Doodoo (yes, i spelled it out like that). It stinks, but there's something funny about it. Farts. They stink, but you're lying if u can say u never farted and laughed or even laughed when somebody else farted. So my point (obscure as it may seem) is that life in the dumps has its moments of humor in the midst of all the misfortune and the stench of s-h-i-t (using it in the vernacular sense. forgive the obscenity).

Case in point, this saturday, while downtown, i stopped by a t-mobile store to pay my phone bill. i had to wait b/c every attendant was "attending," as they do, so i just hung out and waited. while i waited, a woman walked in and started looking at the display phones. she was a black woman dressed in full muslim garb. this is not odd in philly, where there is a very strong presence of african-americans who, even though they are slave descendants like me and (maybe--depending on who's reading this--) you, are also Orthodox Sunni Muslims and dress in the same style as the arabs we often profile as terrorists and suicide bombers.

So i'm hanging out waiting for a free attendant and this woman, in her burqa is walking around the store and touching phones and looking back and forth in the store. suddenly stands start beeping and everyone's looking around trying to figure what the annoying sound is. another black woman in a full burqa (with only eye-slits) walks in and seems to be asking the first black woman why she's taking so long and walks back out to her car. Not long after, the first woman walks out of the store too and into her friend's car on the curb and they drive off.

She left with one of the display phones. you know, those ones in the store that are charged and activated for full use but connected to the stand? well, she disconnected one of them. evidently she wanted to have free cell phone service for a month or two and figured a quick way to get it done was to just lift one straight from the store.

Only thing was, she took a fake one. yeah, u know the plastic ones that are sometimes next to the real ones in a cell phone store? yeah, she picked up the plastic one on accident. funny right?

My second story comes from last night. After waiting forever for the blue line at 40th and market, these two drunk men walked into the same car with me and a number of other ppl, but not without bumping recklessly into many of us and saying God knows what to us. problem was, 3 of the ppl who were bumped didn't take too kindly to the drunkards and began a heated shouting match with the 2 drunkards on the subway. The 3 in question looked to be 18-25, black, 2 guys, 1 girl, and were going at it with two very drunk older black man, one of whom was kinda muscular for a drunk. (I'm not sure what that means, but oh well.) This may not seem like a big deal, especially to those of u used to the urban life. But the sad part was when one of the younger guys from the group of 3 took off his jacket, ready to fight.

Turns out the 3 of them were part of a group that promoted non-violence in Philadelphia. The slogan on the front of their shirts: "Making a safer Philadelphia" with a "Stop the violence" slogan plastered on the back. Fitting, huh? Even more fitting was that the subway car was filled with old black women. Picture those old black women you see that spend everyday going to and from church. it was a picture of a lot of things all at once. A fart personified, perhaps. Funny for a moment, but all in all, the stench is repulsive.

Words of wisdom

Today I had a meeting with Dina Portnoy, head of the UPenn/TFA grad program about my (lack of) progress this semester (some things never change huh? ;-p). *Sidenote: Dina is also the mother of DJ Drama. no lie.*

Well anyways, in our conversation she let me know:

"Teaching gets better, but it never gets easy."

I wholeheartedly believe her. 2 weeks till christmas.

The inescapability of the self

"Wherever I go, there I am." I line from The Wire that I'm sure was taken from somewhere else, but struck a chord (like most things from the show).

Another week begins tomorrow.

The best gift a new teacher could ask for

Not-so-short and sweet:

After my reading class (which was bananas) left , I took my regular kids as a whole class on a bathroom break. We lined up at the door first. Boys on my right in height order, and girls on my left. After waiting a few seconds for them to be quiet, we started to walk to the other side of the building where the girls bathroom was. By the time we got over there, I realized that the girls bathroom is locked and so I would need to get a key from the security guard. So the question was: Do I leave my class alone in the middle of the hall while other classes are working to go get the key or do I take my class with me to search for the security guard who could be anywhere in the building?

I chose the former nervously and left them in a line to go get the key and warned them that I had no problem cancelling their ice cream party AND their bathroom break if they were rowdy and reminded them that other classes were learning still. I walked to the other side of the building and down the steps and found the security guard and ran back to where my kids were and saw the strangest thing I have yet to see since I started teaching.

My kids were in a perfectly straight, completely silent line.

My boys were in height order right behind the girls (who can line up in any order because they know how to act), facing forward (which meant they were not facing my direction), and were just waiting for me to come back.

I noticed that Mr Brown, one of the 6th grade teachers on that side of the hall, had now closed his door when it was at first opened, so I assumed that the only reason they were in a line was because they were being rowdy and Mr Brown had yelled at them till they did what they were sposed to.

Turned out that they did it by themselves because they wanted to impress me. I almost cussed I was so happy.

Now that's something to be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving ppl.

Back like cooked crack..

It was a great weekend. Got to be back in the Lou with normal successful black people my age and hang out with friends and loved ones. Definitely what I needed going into the home stretch before Christmas.

My mother says a lot of things, but one she often repeats is "The Lord looks out for babies and fools." I definitely felt that this weekend, or at least the last part. After taking an unplanned nap Sunday afternoon, I woke up between 5 and 6 pm. I thought everything was gonna be okay tho cuz my flight didn't leave til 6:50...or so i thought. Once I arrived at the ticket counter at St Louis International, I learned that the flight I thought left at 6:50 really left at 6:25 and it was too late for me to catch it. So, I missed my flight.

No biggie, I thought. Put me on the next flight.

No can do, Mr Garr. That's the last flight to Philadelphia this evening. The first flight out the next day would put me back in the City of Brotherless Thugs after 10am.

School starts at 8:15.

So, needless to say, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was going to have to take my first sick day, and have my first substitute. Ya boy was SHOOK. I've heard plenty of stories and seen how classes behave when they have a substitute. And whatever u think is bad, these kids do 10 times worse. Fights, thrown books, broken desks, broken anything, taking teacher's belongings, roaming the halls instead of going to class, things thrown out of windows. I was worried sick that my kids were gonna go bananas when they walked in and saw some random person sitting at my desk this morning.

But I did what I could, made some phone calls, made some arrangements, and tried to load enough work on them to keep them busy all day. Then I enjoyed my last night in StL with the class of 07.

I caught the first flight back to Philly, came back to the crib and decided, "Hey, I'm going to Tilden. Who cares if I took the day off, I'm going to see what my kids are up to." It was more because I wanted to clean up the apocalyptic rubble I was sure to encounter and not wait till tomorrow. I also wanted to be able to make the necessary phone calls today for all the kids who were going crazy and get they mama's on the horn ASAP.

So I dropped my stuff at the crib on 43rd and walked to my trolley stop. Caught the 36 and got off at the normal corner. Only this time, it was around 2pm instead of 7am. I walked into the school, made my way up the 4 flights of steps and walked onto the 4th floor. I could hear my class from down the hall and had thoughts to just turn around and go home. Save myself the trouble of having to confront whatever misbehavior I was sure I would see.

I got to my door and peaked through the glass window and saw a mess of papers all over the floor. Everyone was talking, kinda loudly at that. But to my surprise, they were all in their seats and most of them were working. Nothing was broken from what I could tell. No books had been thrown. No one was hanging out the window. I was pleasantly surprised. But the real surprise happened when I opened the door and walked in.

"MR. GARR!!!" the class erupted into cheers when they saw me walk through the door. Two of my kids even ran up and hugged me as though I had freed them slavery. It was weird and surreal. The same group of kids who have no problem cussing me out and telling me how much they hate me and my class were actually happy to see me. To be honest, I thought they would've been pissed to see me come in on the day they had a sub, but not so.

And really, I think it was more that they hated the sub than they like me. It was more of a choice between two evils for them. The sub was super strict and so they prolly didn't like the fact that they couldn't bulldoze him (like they sometimes do to me). Either way, I came in, got a report of what had happened that day (turned out that 4 of my boys were suspended for something they did in Art class), and got to work on Social Studies. Save 2 knuckleheads, everybody did their work quietly at their tables. They cleaned up the room, straightened the desks, and got to go home AT 3:19. (It's been a long time since the whole class left on time. It actually may have been the first time ever).

I said earlier how one of my mom's favorite sayings is that "The Lord looks out for babies and fools". I really felt what she meant today. All that worrying was for naught. I was the fool who missed his flight yesterday and was scared silly that the worse was bound to happen. My boss was gonna think I was irresponsible, my kids were gonna kill each other, etc, etc, etc. Turns out none of the above happened. The Good Lord looked after me and my babies today. I even got them to work silently at their desks.

All the other teachers asked me "What are you doing here?" when they saw me at the end of the day.

In her characteristically intimidating manner, my principal said "I thought you took the day off, Mr Garr. Why are you here?" as I stood in the office.

"I came to see my kids," I replied with a smirk. "My flight came in and school was still in session so I tried to see if I could teach em a lil sumthin today."

She smiled back, as did the other veteran teachers in the office. Maybe I impressed them. I kinda impressed myself. But even more than that, I realized how invested I've become in these children. Even when they get on my last nerve, and I'm ready to manually remove their brains through their nostrils, I can't see myself letting them down. They've got enough of that already.

So no more playing the fool.

The itsy bitsy spider

Don’t look down

I watch as it falls silently, suspending as it were, on an invisible tether.
Calm, precise, neither fast nor slow, its mouth delivers the line that holds it
midair, spinning solemnly as the air wraps around it,
suspending as it were, as though speech were a rope, a noose, a lasso.

The closer I get, the more I cannot stop looking at it.
Its tiny eyes come into focus
I wonder
Can you see me?
(It was never as easy to kill
the ones that were so blatant. Those tucked in corners
offered less guilt and much less fascination.)

I am certain that it sees me because it stopped
in front of me
as though I were some discovery, some distant shore
to lay claim to, if it could only be sure
how to navigate the sea of air to reach the beach that is my lip or lobe.

And because I am certain
that at this point it is thinking solely of itself, I think of my own self.
The many words that I have hung from ceilings
like tissue paper cutouts, the constant eye
contact, seeing nothing more than my own reflection in another’s pupils.

If it is looking at itself in my eyes, I am not surprised.
What surprises me is the courage with which it meets death
as my hand comes from underneath
because it does not move.

_______

"and i can go on and on and on... but who cares?"
-GB