1-19-00 W 1:41 PM
I'm at my desk in room thirty-three at Wilshire Hill. The kids are reading a unit about the Cheyenne. I read some more Ueland this morning. She wrote of a shy Irish girl who wrote honestly and effortlessly. She quotes a lot of Blake and Van Gogh. I read some old third-person pages. I don't know if I was in a good mood, but the pages seemed pretty good. I rode my bike to school. I got a newspaper. I took care of a pile of crap on my desk while the kids were busy with the computers. We did a lesson on prefixes and suffixes. We didn't finish it yet. We'll finish it tomorrow. I took care of some clerical-type crap at recess. The kids read their ML King research. Only one of them didn't suck. Crystal copied something she got off the internet. Then we went to an assembly in the auditorium to honor Dr. King. I did the crossword. Rodney and I were standing together, and I said sardonically, "Why am I here honoring Dr. King, all he's done is erode my people's privilege." Rodney shook his head and started laughing. As we listened, though, the tragedy set in. It turns the stomach that people can be so ignorant and cruel. When it was over, some of the kids said they felt like crying. I said I knew how they felt. It's difficult trying to explain to them that King was murdered out of hatred. My only hope is that perhaps dying like that amplified his message, but I'm afraid tribal selfishness might be evolutionarily ingrained, and at least half of all humans are not disposed to empathy. King symbolizes the fight for freedom as much or more as anyone on Mt.Rushmore. ~~~~ I ate some leftover chicken that Rochelle packed for my lunch. Anna asked me by the microwave how married life is. "So far, so good," I said. "I have like five-minute flashes everyday where I'm like 'What have I done?!'" - I slap my cheeks - "But the other twenty-three hours and fifty-five minutes are pretty cool." That's what I said. She seemed a tiny bit disappointed. Ralph and I talked about golfing on Saturday. I've got to read some McCain. I read Blake's "Prophecy of America" with some Orc and some Iron Maiden evoking Paine and Washington, Hancock and Franklin. I was diddling Rochelle while I read it, so I didn't quite get the whole thing. Got to call Pat Micelli when I get home. Do a third-person page. I mailed the gas, phone, and cable bills. Gotta work tonight. Gotta go by the office. We're going to PE when I'm done here. I have some shoes I want repaired. I'm tired. I need a nap or some coffee. I've got to crap. We've got to go to Orange County on Sunday for some familial obligations.
I'm at my desk in room thirty-three at Wilshire Hill. The kids are reading a unit about the Cheyenne. I read some more Ueland this morning. She wrote of a shy Irish girl who wrote honestly and effortlessly. She quotes a lot of Blake and Van Gogh. I read some old third-person pages. I don't know if I was in a good mood, but the pages seemed pretty good. I rode my bike to school. I got a newspaper. I took care of a pile of crap on my desk while the kids were busy with the computers. We did a lesson on prefixes and suffixes. We didn't finish it yet. We'll finish it tomorrow. I took care of some clerical-type crap at recess. The kids read their ML King research. Only one of them didn't suck. Crystal copied something she got off the internet. Then we went to an assembly in the auditorium to honor Dr. King. I did the crossword. Rodney and I were standing together, and I said sardonically, "Why am I here honoring Dr. King, all he's done is erode my people's privilege." Rodney shook his head and started laughing. As we listened, though, the tragedy set in. It turns the stomach that people can be so ignorant and cruel. When it was over, some of the kids said they felt like crying. I said I knew how they felt. It's difficult trying to explain to them that King was murdered out of hatred. My only hope is that perhaps dying like that amplified his message, but I'm afraid tribal selfishness might be evolutionarily ingrained, and at least half of all humans are not disposed to empathy. King symbolizes the fight for freedom as much or more as anyone on Mt.Rushmore. ~~~~ I ate some leftover chicken that Rochelle packed for my lunch. Anna asked me by the microwave how married life is. "So far, so good," I said. "I have like five-minute flashes everyday where I'm like 'What have I done?!'" - I slap my cheeks - "But the other twenty-three hours and fifty-five minutes are pretty cool." That's what I said. She seemed a tiny bit disappointed. Ralph and I talked about golfing on Saturday. I've got to read some McCain. I read Blake's "Prophecy of America" with some Orc and some Iron Maiden evoking Paine and Washington, Hancock and Franklin. I was diddling Rochelle while I read it, so I didn't quite get the whole thing. Got to call Pat Micelli when I get home. Do a third-person page. I mailed the gas, phone, and cable bills. Gotta work tonight. Gotta go by the office. We're going to PE when I'm done here. I have some shoes I want repaired. I'm tired. I need a nap or some coffee. I've got to crap. We've got to go to Orange County on Sunday for some familial obligations.
posted by johnz at 2:27 PM
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