the last day of freedom.

tomorrow marks the last day of freedom for me. in reality, it won't completely be "free," since i will still spend time planning my week. i'm anxious to meet the kids on monday, and i'm not really sure who or what to expect. i just have to throw myself into it and see if i'm any good. it's a weird thing, how this past year, i was able to deal individually with pretty much any kid, but i knew if i didn't know him/her in the classroom context, i couldn't talk or relate to this person in the real world. today, for example, as i was driving to the library, i saw two large teenage boys, and wondered, "who the hell has to watch these kids all day, everyday?" i'll be one of them again, soon.

i got a book called the plutonium files for meagan at the watt avenue branch. i guess it's about all these tests that the government did on people back in the day. some pretty horrible shit. injecting infants with plutonium and whatnot. it turned out that they didn't have these other two books i wanted for myself, so i drove to the rancho library to get them. i got teachers have it easy: the big sacrifices and small salaries of teachers and 11 Interviews: Kids Who Didn't Go To School and Got a Real Education (a.k.a. Teenager Liberation 2) or something like that. The clerk, a nice older woman with highlights, looked at the books, smiled, and asked, "Are you going to be a teacher yourself?" "Yes," I answered. "My first year." Her smile only grew, while I thought, "Did you even read the titles of what I'm checking out?" "Oh, congratulations," she said. "My son's girlfriend--they've been seriously dating--is trying to get a position." "Oh, what school?" I asked. "St. Francis." I nodded my head politely. "Cool." I took my books and left.

I revised my schedule for the week, knowing now what my classes will actually look like. Then, I took a break. My dad was watching some Samurai shit on the History Channel. I watched, too. Pretty boring stuff. During the commercial, my dad was impressed with a man who broke a baseball bat with one fatal blow. Then some commercial about classic horror films came on. My mom asked if dad or I had seen The Exorcist. I said yeah, the remastered version, where she does the spiderwalk down the stairs. "Ano bang 'spiderwalk?'" I demonstrated and hurt my back. "You hurt your back, didn't you?" mom asked. "Yeah," I said.

They decided to order pizza. I didn't really like the meatballs, but I ate it anyway. Then we started talking about how capitalism divides us (well, I was anyway), how and why public schools are failing, and how insurance companies are stupid and pointless.

Now they're watching an Elvis special. My dad just turned up the volume.

What a crazy world I live in.

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