Me jazzin,’ me cat!
Me playz all night, me playz all dayz
Me crrrrraaaaaaaaaaa-
Zee cat!
Tail twitch wid’ a beat,
Same beat in my feet’n dey
Hipz and they hopz
‘til I’m on da top of da piiiiiiiiiiii
ana, and so,
da piana man go, he say, “Get down, blame cat!
Me playz za keys and you in my way, you
Crrrrraaaaaaaaaa--
Zee cat!”

Stories they don't always tell, but live...

Today I learned about the home life of two students. Their struggles in school point to the hard-to-hide troubles at home. Yet, they are not free to tell their stories...they are bound by the love they feel for their parents, no matter how painful that love might be....

Somebody wanted... but... so....

It sounds so simple when we say it

in our smooth teacher voices,

and it really is! Some amazing teacherperson crafted

this 'barebones story frame,'

giving birth to

"The dinosaur wanted a friend but nobody liked him. So he met a

dragon and they became friends. The End!"

And so we teach children...to write their own tales

in little books with bright yellow construction paper covers,

kids' tongues concentrating, sticking out, poised between teeth,

as they try so hard to remember the difference

between 'b' and 'd.'

Toothless smiles gleam

on the 'About the Author' pages

they dictate to you...another fairy tale...for some...

But for others...their stories remain

locked behind their eyes,

eyes wise beyond their years, lives already eroded by tears

that replace bathtime.

They cannot tell their truths because

they are too real,

too scary,

and all their fault, all their fault...they think,

over and over,

"all my fault, all my fault, all my fault, all my fault!"

before they even understand what fault means.

Somebody wanted to get high, but they didn't have any money because it all goes to the kid, so they sold their daughter's medication to get more money so they could get high,

high,

higher than the sky,

But why?

why mommy why

can't I get breakfast at school, mommy?

I'm hungry mommy and today's french toast day, mommy,

can't I get french toast mommy, like the others? NO! Not today! Go away!

Then in her classroom, when the teacher asks her

if she wants breakfast, she says a quiet

"no thank you, not today,"

and goes away

to hang up her backpack with last week's papers

mangled and forgotten in the bottom,

and the teacher goes on to the next name, while the girl thinks her story

inside herself...

...somebody wanted some breakfast, but her mommy said no,

so she wouldn't get any breakfast. The end.

That's the story

behind locked eyes, a barebones story

that leaves her alone, and hungry and wondering why

her stories are never about

dragons and dinosaurs

becoming friends.

The end.

Thinking...

interesting...this blogging thing...
ideas in the fingers come out and take wing
on the virtual page, the info age when
reality and fantasy merge
into a digital-land...
so different from the world of wobbly teeth
and dangling shoestrings,
where trevor forgot his backpack on the bus
and worries his dad'll yell,
where show and tell is the gameshow of choice...
where the teacher down the hall
is dragging her overstuffed chair out the classroom door
at 5pm on a Friday, needing to say only one word--
"lice..."
as bloggers with their mice
compose prose, there are teachers
downing no-doze with coffee chasers,
trying to keep up with it all...praying
the proverbial "they" pass a law called
'no teacher left behind,' hoping to find
a little bit more of themself
to give,
wanting, above all,
to avoid classroom lice
(for once)
this year.