I'm Not Dead

I'm not dead. Just... awful damn close. It's unbearably hot here. People kept saying "it's a dry heat! It's a dryyyy heat!" It'll be nothing like the Midwest, whose humidity hugs you like a soggy blanket all day. Yeah. It's nothing like the Midwest, allright. But that bit about the "dry heat" making things tolerable? Ha! Those bastards. They had me fooled. Don't let them fool you too.

You know how when you reach into the oven to take out a pizza, and if you get too close, your vision is suddenly impeded by a layer of condensed moisture on your lenses? Same thing when I get into my car at 7 o'clock at night, after spending 12 hours at school. Because, it's still 100 degrees at 7 o'clock at night. Not a nice balmy 80 like I'm used to. Get in the car, and it's fog up to high heaven, and I can't see a damn thing. So, naturally, I reach for the steering wheel and burn sear marks into my fingers. If you were to see me diving home from school, you would see my hands covered in white napkins, to stop the searing effect. No joke. I look like an idiotic clown, but I don't care. I have happy fingers.

I also have 28 kids. 26 are Hispanic. 2 of the 28 speak no English. 6 others speak a very small amount. The rest are, for the most part, bilingual powerhouses with mouths like motors that could cut topiary faster than Eddie Scizzorhands if only their teeth were blades.

I teach 7 classes a day. Spelling, reading, writing, english, math, social studies and science. I dance around the girls to embarrass them into submission. I tell they boys they are too short to be thugs (and thus will get no street cred, or proper... props...), thus they will sadly have to take up another career path, and become something lame like doctors or lawyers. I give them lots of homework. I give them lots of prizes. I give them lots of teacher looks.

I want them to get one ass-kicking education, but right now, all they covet is my bright blue elephant pencil sharpener.