So it was depressing last night to realize, as I was talking to my moms, that I really didn't want to go back to my job at this same school next year. It feels a little better now because today was a good, relatively smooth sort of day, the sort of day when wayward students who have exclaimed, "Fuck Hu!" upon entering class everyday have finally gotten it into their heads that the best way to pass a math class is by: (a) coming to class, (b) cooperating, (c) not pissing off Whitey (which in this case, happens to be me, somehow). I just hope this isn't illusory--we have been fomenting (fomenting!) revolution at school among the teachers, and while it's not clear that I'll be more than a commissar....

Meanwhile, I've been thinking about my recurring damnation by faint praise--tepid recommendation letters or compensatory compliments accompanying negative performance reviews. By way of biography, I provide a few:

--shoes and belt often match
--brings crossing-guard ladies coffee and tea
--dress shirt stays tucked in all day
--bubbles attendance roster neatly
--crosses 7's Euro-style.
--takes steps two at a time; setbacks one at a time
--gets plenty of fiber (habichuela negra martes, miercoles, y viernes; chicharos los otros dias de la semana)
--also, "z"s
--is very regular (see above)
--reach commensurate with grasp
--headgear is age-appropriate; removes do-rag when asked