real Chinese tacos (& teaching)

Got home today after a long day--this morning, sleepless at 5 a.m., I gave up and got up and worked until...leaving for work. A good day: the ninth grade pull out group didn't say "Why we gotta work with a fuckin sixth grade teacher?" and some ninth graders who never do nothing did some stuff. Plus Dan got some work done with the other kids because I took the ones who distract the rest. Nice to feel somewhat useful.

Although I felt less useful trying to teach A. to read. Fingers crossed, patience rallied.

J. and D. did a little work in a pull out group. Amazing what some kids are capable of when you stand over them holding an enthusiastic whip, a.k.a. when they feel directly responsible for and engaged in being part of their own educations, if only because an adult keeps bugging them about it instead of letting them blend into the larger louder crowd. But not only because of that--also because they like having ideas and having those ideas recognized and responded to, but they can't focus enough to bring those ideas out when there's too much else going on (which there so is, always, especially in sixth grade with puberty descending), plus some of these kids just aren't the type to enthusiastically wave hands and share any kind of ideas related to school and books, even if they are percolating somewhere down there.

Anyway it was a good day. Even the dentist after work wasn't so awful. And I came home to Nick making soup and the house smelling really good.

He explained that the soup wouldn't be ready for a while: "I just put the beans in.”

Told him, “I had tacos before the dentist anyway, in case I couldn't eat after. Not real ones though. The Chinese ones.”

"Real Chinese ones? Not moo shu?”

"Real Chinese ones.”

Oh, Fresco Tortilla. (Even if you know about Fresco Tortilla, this article from the Times is worth reading. I first read it framed on the wall at the Fresco Tortilla near school.)