Pouting

Special ed. U.S. history. Fifth period. They had terms to define.

"May I use the restroom?"

The teacher had given me a list of "no go" students. They had "abused her trust" and had therefore lost out-of-class privileges. So, when the boy asked the question and I heard rumblings of "you're not allowed to go", I made sure to double check the list.

Yep, he was one of the three.

Oh, he was incensed. Angry at the others for ratting him out.

"It's not them," I told him. "Your teacher left me a list, and you're on it."

Oh he argued. And whined. And begged. But it sounded to me like he probably left the room and didn't return for half the period. I've had those issues. I'll trust the teacher on this one.

I got class started, and then I walked the room. The boy had his head down on his desk. I tried to get his attention, but he wouldn't budge.

He was pouting.

Okay, fine. I could let his teacher know this.

A bit later, he asked me if he could leave the room. This time he wanted water. He was thirsty, and he couldn't work because he was thirsty.

So, which was it? Did he need to use the restroom, or was he thirsty? And before you say both...

When I told him he couldn't leave, he said he thought he could only not leave for the restroom. He thought a water break would be permissible.

Sigh.

I let his teacher know all of this. Perhaps she'll have a conversation with him.

Powerless

Special ed. seventh grade world history. We were reading a chapter on the Middle Ages, St. Patrick, and Charlemagne.

Their teacher (Ms. M) was in the habit of projecting the pages for the class as they read along in the textbook. I have to admit, it made it easy to let the kiddos know where we were as most weren't following along, so they'd know where to start when it was their turn to read. Alas, setting that up...

Ms. M had checked out a laptop for me to use, and she even had the tech guy, Pete, come out to make sure it was all good to go. (No, Pete's not his real name.)

After Pete left, I noticed the battery was on red. But it was plugged in. It wasn't showing it as being plugged in on the toolbar. I jiggled the plug. I moved the plug to a different outlet. I called over the instructional aide (IA) to see if he could make it work.

(I've been subbing so long that the IA... I remember having him in class not too terribly long ago. As a high school student.)

There was no help for it. We needed Pete. But I had a class to deal with, so I had the IA call him.

Towards the end of the period, I asked the IA what Pete had said. Apparently, the battery on the laptop was bad, so it wasn't going to show that it was plugged in.

In retrospect, this made no sense. And if I hadn't had the class to deal with, I would have called Pete and we would have had a different conversation.

Because, after period one left, the computer died. It blinked out and wouldn't turn back on. Naturally.

And when Pete returned, he discovered what I had been trying to tell him. (He did exactly what I did, plugging the cord into a different outlet.) However, he had more luck than I did, and after about ten minutes, he had the laptop working again.

Whew. Because there were also video clips that went along with the lesson.

The Visit

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements. 😉

Sometimes an article pops up (like this one about Oumuamua, which an astronomer hypothesized might be alien tech), and the what if writes itself...

What if we were visited by an alien craft that we all saw?

Home

I may not be very coherent for the next week or so. But before I whine, let me show you the pretty pictures.

The gray behemoth made it to its new home...

Niece seems to like it...

(If you want to say "hi" to my niece, you can find her on Instagram here and here.)

The rest of this post is me venting. It's been... Yeah. Consider this your warning. You might want to get out now.

Ahem.

1:15 AM. Saturday. I don't know what it was that woke me. But as I drifted awake, contemplating if I really, really needed to use the restroom or if I should just go back to sleep, I heard dripping. Kind of like rainfall. But the sound was wrong...

I jumped out of bed and turned on the light.

From that light, which was part of a ceiling fan just over my bed, was water, dripping onto my bed.

And then the dripping sped up.

I grabbed a couple towels to help sop up the water. Not sure what to do, I looked about for a bucket of some sort. I noted the time.

As the water sped up more, becoming a stream, more water started falling from a different part of the ceiling.

By the time I got my roommate (who owns the place) involved (yes, I woke her at 1:20 AM-ish), water was also streaming from just outside my closet. Landlady called it a waterfall. I called it a deluge.

Luckily, we had access to the water shut off for the building. Unluckily, the emergency line we contacted didn't send a plumber overnight (even though they said they were).

The water stopped after about a half hour. The plumber arrived 12 hours later.

I pulled all the sheets off my bed and put them in the bathtub. That's when I discovered that my mattress pad was awesome. My bed was basically a pool by the time the water stopped, but my mattress was only wet in a small spot right where the water had been dripping.

If I had been thinking, I would have taken pictures. I wasn't thinking.

Anyway, the plumber tried to replicate the issue. Above my room is a bathroom. He ran the shower. He flushed the toilet. No water. And this was after turning the water back on, and nothing happened.

(In other words, we turned off the water to our whole building--I don't know how many units--on a Saturday morning for nothing.)

What the plumber did find was a sopping wet bathroom. Wet floor. Wet clothes. Wet towels. And a stopped up sink.

The tenant above us? Yeah, he says no leak. No issue. Nothing happened.

Uh... Really? Apparently I'm a miracle woman, then. If only I'd known when we were in full on drought a year or so back. I could have single-handedly ended it.

So, it's now Sunday night. I've commandeered my other roommate's room. (She's out of town visiting friends.) My room has a dehumidifier going. Last I checked, it's 83 F in there. This is the stopgap measure until they can get someone to remove the ceiling.

They checked with their sensors, and the ceiling is wet. It's probably in the insulation. And we don't want mold.

I'm around. But my routine has been shot to hell. Hopefully I'll make the usual rounds this week. But we'll see. I'm taking things one day at a time right now. I have a bed tonight. I'll figure out where I'm sleeping tomorrow night tomorrow.

And hopefully things will get put back together sooner rather than later.

How was your weekend?

Pencil War

It was one of those classes that I'm only grateful for because it's good for the blog. Freshman math. On a Friday. With a quiz.

Girl: "Give me back my pencil."

Boy: "It's my pencil. I was using it in first period. Everyone here will back me up."

And sure enough, those around the pair did agree that the boy had the pencil in first period. To which the girl asserted that she had lent him that pencil in first period...

All I wanted was for them to stop talking and work on their quiz. This was the latest distraction to keep the kiddos from behaving. (I demand silence until all the quizzes have been turned in.)

It was a light blue mechanical pencil. Very nice. And if they couldn't decide between themselves whose pencil it was, I was going to take that bone of contention and let their teacher decide. On Tuesday.

(I believed the girl. In these situations, the person with the item who claims it's theirs is generally lying. But, the liar gets very vocal, and at this point all I wanted was silence.)

Once that was settled, there were other issues to demand my time. The day was bad. And in a bad day, this class (second period) was the worst.

So, of course, as they're leaving, the boy said to the girl: "Did you get your pencil back?"

Because, naturally. To my face he swore up and down it was his. Just to mess with the girl, I suspect.

Which State?

Earth Science. Mostly freshmen, but there were sophomores, juniors, and seniors mixed in. I had been warned going in that they could be a handful.

The assignment was an earthquake risk map. They were to color in each state based on how many earthquakes had ever been recorded there. They were given all the data they needed to complete the map. Well, almost.

The map of the U.S. didn't label the states.

(It turns out that I actually can locate all the states on a map. This shocked me. I assume I learned it via this quiz. Because, I can tell you for certain I could not have done this when I was their age.)

This was going to be a problem. These are the kinds of students who will make a whole lot of mischief and a mess if left to their own devices. And being unable to complete the assignment would have turned the class crazy fast.

I scrambled to find a labeled map in their book. I checked the table of contents, the appendices at the end, but to no avail. I mean, the earth science book had plenty of various maps, just none of the U.S. with the states labeled.

So... I let them pull out their phones to look up maps. This class had a strict no phones policy, and these were the kinds of kiddos most likely to abuse any lessening of the rules. But there was no way I was going to give them an excuse not to work.

And the day went surprisingly well. Only a couple students abused my trust.

Then, in fifth period, I glanced at one student's desk. His earth science book was open to a map with all the states labeled.

IT HAD BEEN IN THE BOOK THE WHOLE TIME!

I did not have to allow phones.

via GIPHY

To be fair to me, I don't look at their books often. And this map was a random natural resources thing buried in the middle of some random chapter. I probably could have found it if I had had time to flip through the book...

Still, it would have made things go so much smoother if I could have pointed that out earlier.

Sigh. At least I didn't have to let sixth period use their phones.

Raining

You may have heard that we had four days of rain last week. Or perhaps not. It's big news around these parts any time rain is even expected.

While looking for how many days it rains yearly for my area, I stumbled across this article, and I think it details quite well why rain is such a big deal for us.

Anyway, it was a seventh grade combo math/science class. It was Tuesday. It had rained Monday, and rain was (correctly) forecast for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

It had drizzled a bit before school, but while we had gray skies, it wasn't raining raining.

The kiddos were prepared, though. They had umbrellas. Rain boots. They were dressed warmly in sweatshirts with hoods. (Keep in mind our classrooms all open to the outdoors, so if it's raining, they get doused while getting to their next class.)

In other words, we all knew rain was coming. We were ready.

Halfway through first period, a couple girls asked to go to the library to print out some project for another class. The math assignment had been short, so they had the time. I let them go.

They opened the door.

"IT'S RAINING!"

Uh, yeah...

Suddenly, everyone is up and looking out the door.

Sigh. It's like they'd never seen rain before.

Not What I Meant

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements. 😉

What if the off-the-cuff sarcastic response you made online was taken seriously? And it went viral...

Finishing Up Christmas Knitting

My Christmas knitting is almost at an end. I just finished up the last pair of ugly slippers... 

Since I never showed these off as I was knitting them, these are the pair that I finished before the green... 

And a shot of all four complete... 

Although, not quite. They'll require a bit more finishing before they're ready to be mailed off. I have yet to attach soles to the bottom so that one doesn't slip on slippery floors when one is wearing them. And the twins requested dinosaurs. A little sewing, that's all. 

And I'm doing a little designing. A walking purse... 

I still have a couple pieces to finish, and then assembly. I may write up the pattern eventually. 

And then HapkidoKid's 13th birthday was the day after Christmas. His birthday scarf is in progress... 

So, I have a few projects still. But, I'm closer to the end of them all than the beginning. Not too bad. 

(Ideally I would have had everything finished in time for Christmas. But I'm good with only being a month or so late. I'm better off than last year.)

A Very Short Walk

I was covering a math class (one I've written about before). And, of course, I was asked to cover an extra period. (Last week was another week where I didn't get a prep period.)

I laughed when I saw where this other class was. Not only was it next door, the two rooms were connected.

Door inside the math class.

Door inside the special ed class.

This turned out to be a very useful door, actually. The math class' outside door's lock was stuck, so the only way to enter the room was via the special ed room.

It was so nice not to have to walk to the opposite side of campus for a change.

Milking the Injury

Middle school special ed U.S. history. The classes had been pretty good until 6th period. But, 6th period...

All boys. They came in loud. And I had to scold them to get settled at the bell.

Rico immediately called me over. He had to go to the health office. He hurt his hand.

The third and fourth knuckles on his right hand were purple with a bruise. It looked like he had hit something, hard.

Rico was goofing off. Loud. Not getting settled. So, I didn't really want to let him go. Because, he was clearly looking for an excuse not to work. But, those knuckles looked painful, and I'm not in the habit of denying students passes to the health office when they ask.

He wasn't gone long. He got some ice and returned. And now, it was all about how he couldn't do the assignment due to his hand.

The assignment was a timeline. They had been given a list of events during the Lewis & Clark expedition. They were to transfer those events to a preprinted timeline. Every other class finished by half way through the period.

But Rico "couldn't write". It "hurt too much". And I was reminded of the saying:

“If you really want to do something, you'll find a way. If you don't, you'll find an excuse.”

Rico was milking this excuse for all it was worth and then some.

And he was joined by two other boys who somehow couldn't get this timeline finished by the end of the period. Sigh. Middle school. Boys.

Vocabulary Challenge

English class at the continuation high school. The kiddos were to read a very short excerpt from John Locke's Of the State of Nature.

The students at the continuation high school aren't the strongest students, so the passage was a challenge for them to decipher. (I did read it with them and I tried to break things down so they understood.) Part of the assignment was to circle any words they were unfamiliar with so they could look them up.

I bet you know what's coming. I was expecting it.

"I am familiar with all of those words."

I believed two or three students. But way more than two or three students claimed this. So I warned them.

"If you're going to tell me that you know all the words in the excerpt, I'm going to ask you to prove it."

I had a group of students turning in their work. None of them had defined any words. Considering the paragraphs I had in front of me, I could give each student a different word. Words like: reciprocal, promiscuously, subordination, dominion, promulgated, and absolved.

And so I did. I asked each student to define a different word. And they made good stabs at it (using the context a bit). But they weren't even close.

Eventually they took their papers back. They didn't then look for words. Of course not. But at least they couldn't claim they were done.

(Considering that I heard one student looking up "arbitrary" but pronouncing it "obituary", there were more words that would have tripped them up had I asked for definitions.)

A Dragon

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements. 😉

This Dutch flower parade (similar to the Rose Parade) popped up on my Facebook timeline recently. And, as I've been reading some dragon fiction lately, it made me think...

What if that dragon was real?

The Gray Behemoth, End

So, yes, I finished it...

And I'm still learning my camera, so the pictures could be better.

It's about bed-sized...

And in case you're curious, the back side looks like the back side of stockinette stitch...

I finished it up last Monday. Now it's just a matter of getting it to my niece.

Hey, it's only 20 pounds. Not too bad.

Finally, I had to pose with it, just to give you an idea of how big it is...

And now I can go back to focusing on my other projects.

Middle nephew (one of niece's little brothers) is raising money for the American Heart Association. If any of you are so inclined, he would be most grateful for your help. (This link will take you to his page.)

Don't Date High School Boys

Winter break is over, but because I'm always posting last week's stories, I've pulled this week's posts from before the break. 

It was the last day before the winter break. Sort of. The continuation high school had to attend the Friday while the rest of the schools in the district were off. (They did a weird thing with the calendar this year.) But it was my last day, as no teachers from the continuation high school were going to be out.

And, as with all of December, I was again covering an extra period.

Which was unusual. This teacher had an emergency and had to leave early. (I heard it was a chipped tooth or something similar.)

For those keeping score, this gave me my second bonus day for the month.

Anyway, the class (there were like seven present) were busy watching their phones, mostly. They had a project, but most had already checked out mentally for the break. However, the room was dead silent.

So, I could hear Warren's entire conversation. It was all about his 22-year-old girlfriend and all the *ahem* things they did together. Yes, he was talking about sex. He was in the middle of relating one escapade when he looked up.

"Yes, we are listening. You can hear a pin drop in here. We can hear you."

Nope, that wasn't me. That was Jason. Jason M. No, not music Jason. (Music Jason is Jason C.) Jason M. is more of a gamer. (Certain names are popular. As I frequently have both Jasons in class at the same time, I am quite good at remembering which Jason is which.)

Jason M. was seated right in front of me. And I was grateful he spoke up. I gave Warren a glare.

"You might want to pick another topic," was all I said.

Warren didn't. He tried talking more softly, but the room was silent. I caught the gist of it.

All I could think was, why would a 22-year-old date a high school boy? (Warren says he's 18. I'm inclined to believe him. It's likely true.) Doesn't she realize that everything they do will be discussed with his friends? In class.

Probably not. If I knew who she was, I'd give her a heads-up.

My email to their teacher was short:

Yeah, so they didn't do a whole lot. No issues other than that. Although, we heard way more about [Warren's] sex life than I care to know. (He's dating a 22 year old.)

His reply was about the same: 

Wow...ok thanks for the heads up...I will talk to them

And revenge is sweet. I did warn Warren to find a different topic. If he's okay putting his business on front street, I'm okay letting Mr. A know that's what was discussed in his absence. (If Mr. A embarrassed him, all the better.) 

The Stomach Ache

Winter break is over, but I didn't work last week, so this week's posts are from before the break.

"My stomach hurts." Russell said this while munching on a bag of Hot Cheetos.

"Those aren't going to help," I said.

Mitchell chimed in, "You don't know that. He could be hungry."

"But when you're hungry, you say you're hungry. Hunger is a specific kind of stomach pain. If you say your stomach hurts..."

They weren't listening. Both argued over me. Russell didn't care. His argument had something to do with him having the snack meant he had to eat the snack. And Mitchell seemed to think that pain = hunger.

Russell asked to return to the health office. He had been there the prior period, but as his grandmother wouldn't come and pick him up, they sent him back to class.

There's a procedure to these things. For general malaise, the health clerk lets the student lie down for twenty minutes. Depending on the severity of the ailment, the clerk may call the student's parent(s) to pick the kiddo up. If the student feels better after the twenty minutes, they go back to class. Or, if someone won't pick the kiddo up. If a parent will pick the kiddo up, they are released for the day.

As Russell headed to the health office, he had switched to eating Funyuns. (He had finished the bag of Hot Cheetos.)

About a half hour later, Russell returned. His father wouldn't come to pick him up.

He admitted the Funyuns might not have been a good idea... as he continued to consume them.

On the bright side, he did not vomit in class. But, alas, he didn't grasp the concept that eating junk wasn't going to help the situation, especially as he was going to have to finish the school day.

(He said his mother lived at least an hour away, so he was out of options as to having someone pick him up. And students can't be released from school on their own. So, unless things got serious enough to call an ambulance, he was going to remain at school until the final dismissal bell.)

Weird Monday

Winter break is over, but as I didn't work last week, I'm posting stories from the week just before the break.

The call came late. An hour prior, I saw no call and I figured I wasn't working. It was Monday of finals week, so I was not terribly shocked to not have an assignment.

The call came at the time I should have been getting into my car, so while I accepted the assignment, I let them know I'd be late.

I got to the school about a half hour into the school day. The office was empty of all except the receptionist. Everyone else was out at the fire drill.

Score! I missed the fire drill!

The office staff returned, and I checked in. The teacher I was covering had first period off, which meant I had missed nothing being late. And I had about two hours until my first class. (They were on a block schedule for finals.)

I got into the classroom and got set up for the day. I was enjoying the first prep period I'd had all month when the office called. Could I go and cover another class? Naturally.

I arrived at the silent class (about an hour into the block). They were in the middle of their final. The teacher had no idea what I was doing there.

He called the office. It turned out there was an IEP meeting he didn't know about.

Some days just go sideways. I guess I was due for a weird one.

It's Alive

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.😉

What if inanimate objects were alive in another dimension? (What if we're the inanimate objects there?)

The Gray Behemoth

Because knitting takes time and effort, and because I don't want to become one of those aunts (the kind that gift things the kiddos hate), I'm establishing a request system for gifts. That is, I ask the kiddos what they want, and then that's what I make.

Niece asked for one of those large knit blankets for Christmas.

Yes, I know it's January. But, I'm still finishing up two scarves from Christmas 2017, so I'm not that far behind.

I already explained some of this when I showed off the yarn for this beast...

I even went and bought three more skeins. Turned out these six weren't quite enough.

I finally got around to starting the project. I have knit all six of those skeins, plus a seventh.

(Niece requested a blanket 75 inches by 90 inches. The six skeins got me to a length of 56 inches. That'll stretch, but not quite enough. Yes, this is huge.

So, I'll let niece know that this blanket is: Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, Congratulations on your Graduation, and Happy Birthday. She never told me what she wanted for her birthday last year. She graduates from high school this year. And suddenly I'm caught up gifting for her. Yea!)

It took me a while to get into the rhythm of the thing. I played with the yarn a few times before devoting a whole day (January 1st) to just doing it. I discovered that I don't like knitting on my arms. I almost broke and bought needles to use. It turned out that one crochet hook was all I needed to figure out the tension.

This was the first attempt to cast on. Too many stitches. Too tight. I eventually loosened it up again, but I ripped this out at least three times before I got it going.

Above is just about one skein in. (Keep in mind that the width is about 70 inches--just a bit under.) You can kind of see the crochet hook I used to get thing started, plus the amount of that first skein left. Alas, my camera was being difficult with the focusing (and my phone camera isn't uploading to my computer), so the pictures aren't ideal.

Once I got into a rhythm, I discovered that I really liked knitting off my fingers. It turns out my thumbs are just about the right size for the stitches, so I used them to measure stitches.

At two skeins, the blanket looked like this...

I used my TV remote for a bit of scale. At about three skeins it looked like...

Finishing up a skein took me about an hour, depending. It was shorter when the TV was off, but that got boring quickly.

I'm not sure if the above photo is of five or six skeins. At some point I lost track. I only got four skeins knit that first day. (It wasn't the whole day. I had to switch over to another project, and then it was night.)

As of the writing of this post, I had completed knitting seven skeins. This picture is of six skeins knit plus the seventh skein I was about to start...

Yes, it's huge. And warm. And heavy.

It's kind of a fun project, now that I'm into it. I wouldn't mind making these as throw blankets or lap blankets. And I totally get why they're so expensive to buy. (I could totally justify charging $400 for this particular blanket. And that's what they're going for.)

Will I make them for my shop? Maybe. I'm more likely to do one if specifically requested to do so. (I would charge at least $100 for one, but likely more depending on how many skeins of yarn are required.)

I should have finished photos for next week, depending. It'll be a challenge to figure out how to get a good picture of it. Staging and such. I only have two more skeins to go, so it'll be finished.

(And as for my cold, it's pretty much gone now. Thanks for all the well wishes.)

Not so Sick

We are currently on winter break, but I had a few left over posts from the last couple weeks before the break. 

"I need to blow my nose."

Ten Minutes then picked up the box of tissues.

I know, it's that time of the year. I'm dealing with sinus issues and a cough myself. But no, he doesn't get the classroom's full box.

We compromised. Ten Minutes took five tissues.

Later in the period, I noticed movement near Ten Minutes. He and the girl two seats over were throwing tissues at each other.

Naturally.

(He looked miserable. I thought he was actually sick and needed multiple tissues. My mistake.)

Bad Choices

We are currently on winter break. But I had a few left over posts from the last couple weeks, so I thought I'd share.

"Martin, don't stick a fork in the outlet."

Martin: "It wasn't a fork. It was a pair of scissors."

Biology. Mostly students who do their work. But Mr. V had warned me that his fifth period was "special". The last time he had had a sub, the scissors incident happened.

The rest of the class had a vested interest in Martin being a good citizen. Apparently the consequences of his deed were shared by the class in general.

Martin, wisely, chose to sit in the middle of the room, away from the walls and outlets.

It was while walking the room that I got a chance to check in with Martin. He wanted me to know that he hadn't stuck the scissors in the outlet. He just stuck them around the outside.

When I questioned him as to why, he told me he had been bored.

Bored? He had an assignment.

This is when he admitted to having a 36% in the class. He turned in no work. (That he isn't at a full zero is all due to classroom participation points.)

Martin lamented that he'd have to take summer school to make up for the semester. It's a four-hour class. He's not looking forward to it.

I can't help but think he probably should have considered this way earlier in the semester. And perhaps, I don't know, actually do and turn in his classwork. Perhaps then he wouldn't be so bored that he'd entertain himself by sticking a pair of scissors in an electrical outlet (or around the outside--whatever).

The New Class

There was a batch of new students at the continuation high school. Well, there's always a new batch. They break down their year into eight blocks, each about a month long. The school admits a new class of about twenty for each of those blocks.

(Students graduate on their own timeline, as well. As soon as they reach 220 credits, they're done, no matter when in the year it is.)

Sixth period was the class that had all the newbies. I realized this when I got a look at the roster. I recognized a couple names. And not from the continuation high school.

I have mentioned Kevin before. In fact, I predicted that he'd end up here. (It was a rather obvious prediction.) He'll fit right in.

The other student I recognized just by his name I have not mentioned on the blog before. That's because I try to think of him as little as possible.

Many mornings I would walk onto one campus and hear my name bellowed across the expanse. Each syllable enunciated. Followed by giggles. And repeated.

I quickly learned to ignore it.

Angelo even would run up to me and bellow my name to my face.

I asked him to stop. He would not.

Then I had him in a class with a co-teacher, and I learned that I was not special. He did the same to all his teachers. Whew. I'm so glad he wasn't singling me out.

Yup, now he's at the continuation high school. He seemed surprised to see me. And, as luck would have it, he's stopped the bellowing of my name. So, progress.

I didn't recognize the other students. But I'll learn their names. Because I do spend a lot of time at the continuation high school. (Little did they know that they can't escape me there *insert evil laugh*)

Renamed

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.😉

What if every new year we had to take a new name?