hips don't lie.

right now, these two girls are practicing a dance routine to a shakira song. it's pretty mesmerizing, like watching two lava lamps. one of the girls, i can't remember her name, is in ms. rosburg's advisory class. i think i even saw her perform at the mello center once. she danced with about a dozen other girls to a medley. my favorite dance move of theirs was when they "scoop, scooped the ground." i'm really interested in taking disco lessons, but i don't know where to look.

in other news, i had to make two trips to pizza mia for my third period students who were having a party to celebrate taking the cahsee for the final time. i love how they celebrate just doing something, regardless of whether or not they passed. it's a christmas quincinera. i was kind of irritated having to drive back to pizza mia the second time, but then i thought i might learn something. so i paid attention. the woman who rung up the pizzas last time began talking to me. she started with:

"they sent you back, huh?"

"yeah, they did," i said.

"where do you work?"

"at watsonville high," i told her.

"okay, your pizzas will be ready in a few minutes."


i stand against the wall and look around the little pizza shop. there are bars and christmas lights on the main window, no chairs or tables, and at the very end of the hall, a mini arcade. i wish i had the capacity to work at a place like this. i wonder if the workers have no ambition, if they have settled for this, and think that this is the best life has to offer. i am disappointed that the girls from yesterday weren't working. maybe because i know for them, this is not permanent. instead, there is a tough looking young man with tattooes and a handle bar moustache. the other man wears a cowboy hat and a flannel t-shirt. the woman, the one who is talking to me, wears a maroon shirt and has her hair tied in a bun. she slightly resembles one of the girls from yesterday, and i think for a moment that they are related.

let me backtrack. yesterday, i went to pizza mia for the first time when a boy, oswaldo (pronounced 'os-val-dough') told me that he liked pizza mia better than cassidey's pizza. being a fan of cassidey's, i had to see if he was speaking the truth. meagan and i ordered by the slice. $1.50 for a slice of pepperoni. i left left them a dollar tip.

"what do you do at the school?" the woman asked me today.

"i'm a tutor."

she nods. for a few minutes again, it is silent. two woman enter the restaurant, one is pregnant, and both are holding two potted plants each. they are purple and yellow flowers. i wish i knew what kind they were. the woman who is speaking to me decides that she would like to buy one. she announces this to the crew, and the man with the handle bar moustache asks how much. "fifteen dollars," she says, in english. the man just looks at her. she pays the pregnant woman, then puts the flowers next to the fridge which houses the soda and juices. i think to myself that the window would have been a better place. then i wonder if the man with the moustache is upset with her, or else thinks she is crazy for paying $15 for something that will only last a few days. i am surprised by how the woman pays for it without hesitation, and seemingly without regret. it's evident that she doesn't come from money, working at a joint like pizza mia. maybe she believes in karma, or helping out fellow mexicanos who can't compete with american big business. maybe she just felt like she needed some flowers.

after the women leave, she asks me when spring break is.

"april sixth," i tell her. "until the 13th."

"i should write that down," she says. "it's good to know, you know, because so many students come in during lunch. it'll be good to know when there won't be so many in here around lunch."

i smile and nod.

my pizzas are ready.

1 comment:

sproutabulous said...

i thought you were a vegetarian.