There is an old tale of a Southern preacher who looks out one late summer Sunday at his congregation, as they sit sweating and fanning themselves, and says "Brothers and sisters, I know what you're thinking as you sit in church today--you're thinking that it's hotter than hell. Well, let me tell you. It ain't."
That must have been a day like today. We're having a heat wave in California. It's hot. I am drinking iced Wissotsky mango tea, and waiting until the stove no longer feels like the oven is on before I turn the oven on.
The kids were pretty torpid today, except for the part at lunch where they started throwing water at each other. I was in my classroom, overseeing a detention, when about six girls who didn't have detention came running in and asked if they could stay. "They're throwing water out there," Chana explained in agitation. "And we're black!"
It took me a second to make the connection. All six had straightened hair. Water + straightened hair = well, not good things. I allowed them to hide out in my classroom to preserve their crowning glory from going haywire. They watched out the window as their classmates waged warfare with drink bottles. "I wish I was Mexican, just until it gets cooler," Sheva commented sadly, smoothing her ponytail.
No comments:
Post a Comment