A Suspension of Time and School
Even though you were on our school’s roster, rumor had it that your guardian put you in a different school, and you’d no longer half-bounce into my class, calling one of your friends a “nigga-what-the-fuck” for something they allegedly did to you.
Before you came back, you only knew me as the second math teacher, the Black-possibly-Dominican guy who came in to help your math teacher at the time. You’d go off on one of your classmates, and I’d refocus you with a “Why are you doing that?! You’re so close, and you’re not even going to finish?!” You’d get back to work and go “Alright, fine” and get back to work.
Your reputation preceded you long before eighth grade, in hallway fights and missed classes, in snickers and
