M 4-28 12:08 PM
What a shame that this has just become something to get out of the way during random minutes of free time. I'm at my desk. It's lunch time. I told Muniz I'd come by to see if I could figure out why her printer didn't work, but I got lunch and worked on the crossword puzzle, and now I'm doing this. My wrist has been sore lately. There's a big lump at the joint. I bet I have repetitive stress syndrome. A metacarpal tunnel injury. The bell just rang. I have pick up the kids. I can finish this while they do their math.
I have to call my grandparents when I get home. Clean my desk, pay my bills. Go to the LACAS office to turn in my time card and summer school verification. The Dodgers are on TV at 4:30. I can watch the first few innings. I've got to finish my household chores at some point. Laundry, bathroom needs cleaning. We need to hire a cleaning lady.
I had a chicken patty sandwich for lunch. I squirted two packets of mayo on the bun. I was bummed there was no ranch dressing. I had to use disgusting thousand island.
I saw Mario wasn't practicing his fraction-adding skills. I said, "Mario, if I look up again and see you wasting time, I'll have to put you under the sad face."
He said, "But Zurn, I'm under the happy face."
"I'll erase you then."
"Okay."
Twenty seconds later he went across the room to goof off with Alejandra. I erased him. I said, "Mario, you better get on a baseball team..." I weighed what I was about to say with slight hesitation, "...because if you have to use your brains for a living, you might not get very far." He went back to his seat. He worked about half a minute and then started playing with a top.
What else? I've got Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. When I'm done, I'll read more of the Frey essay. Mario gave me a sticker of an imitation Wiley Coyote, clutching an imitation Road Runner by the neck, holding a mallet, and the caption says, "Yurass."
We saw a play called "Dos Amigos" about how a Spanish-speaking immigrant from Mexico and an English-speaking white American become friends.
I've got to clean off this desk here at school. Think about leaving. Tomorrow I meet with Pam, the Principal. She wants to persuade me to stay. It's much better for me if I go. She has to let me go.
Twenty minutes to PE. We'll play softball. I guess that does it for today.
What a shame that this has just become something to get out of the way during random minutes of free time. I'm at my desk. It's lunch time. I told Muniz I'd come by to see if I could figure out why her printer didn't work, but I got lunch and worked on the crossword puzzle, and now I'm doing this. My wrist has been sore lately. There's a big lump at the joint. I bet I have repetitive stress syndrome. A metacarpal tunnel injury. The bell just rang. I have pick up the kids. I can finish this while they do their math.
I have to call my grandparents when I get home. Clean my desk, pay my bills. Go to the LACAS office to turn in my time card and summer school verification. The Dodgers are on TV at 4:30. I can watch the first few innings. I've got to finish my household chores at some point. Laundry, bathroom needs cleaning. We need to hire a cleaning lady.
I had a chicken patty sandwich for lunch. I squirted two packets of mayo on the bun. I was bummed there was no ranch dressing. I had to use disgusting thousand island.
I saw Mario wasn't practicing his fraction-adding skills. I said, "Mario, if I look up again and see you wasting time, I'll have to put you under the sad face."
He said, "But Zurn, I'm under the happy face."
"I'll erase you then."
"Okay."
Twenty seconds later he went across the room to goof off with Alejandra. I erased him. I said, "Mario, you better get on a baseball team..." I weighed what I was about to say with slight hesitation, "...because if you have to use your brains for a living, you might not get very far." He went back to his seat. He worked about half a minute and then started playing with a top.
What else? I've got Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. When I'm done, I'll read more of the Frey essay. Mario gave me a sticker of an imitation Wiley Coyote, clutching an imitation Road Runner by the neck, holding a mallet, and the caption says, "Yurass."
We saw a play called "Dos Amigos" about how a Spanish-speaking immigrant from Mexico and an English-speaking white American become friends.
I've got to clean off this desk here at school. Think about leaving. Tomorrow I meet with Pam, the Principal. She wants to persuade me to stay. It's much better for me if I go. She has to let me go.
Twenty minutes to PE. We'll play softball. I guess that does it for today.
posted by johnz at 7:16 AM
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