Days are numbered

I am in the last day of the first week of teaching summer school. I have a classroom of new sophomores taking their freshmen English class again. Three of the students are mothers-to-be. I am sure there is one or two more who already are. I got a couple of wanna-be gansters, a couple who don't speak English, and one who is taking the class again to improve his grade.



I'm glad I'm here. First, it brings in some extra money that we will no doubt need before the end of July. Every year, the Williams family comes across the outer marker with vapors for financial fuel. It had been a couple years in a row that I would hit up my kids to float dad a few hundred for two weeks. Now, we might actually make it without having financial dreams wake me in the middle of the night.



I'm also glad I'm here because I need to be doing something. Sure, I can sit and relax but it takes time. I need to decompress and leaving school and sitting down doesn't happen right away. For example, this last week off before summer school, I built a shed on the side of the house, complete with concrete foundation. Yep, that's my down time. So keeping me here 4 of the 5 working days is a benefit to our home. Given enough time, I might have a second story built on the house. Even though that would be nice, it would be way too much square footage for the neighborhood.



I guess what I am really happy about, even though I have to stop and think about it, is the faces of the kids. I think God has gifted me to inspire. If you believe in that sort of thing, I think God gave me the gift of inspiration. Summer school is a challenge for me to light a fire in children's hearts to get them going again in only four weeks. For so many of them, the fire in their belly is out, extinguished by years of parents, friends, relatives telling them they are something less than what they are. I tell them that's 'bullshit.' Yep, I swear. I tell them to go back to the person who told them they were worthless and won't amount to anything and the next time they say that to them to politely tell them their English teacher said they were lying. Then give them my name and if they want to discuss it, to please contact me.

No one has-crap. A Scot, even one as distant to my ancestors as I, is always looking for a good fight.