ess

Summer School was good in many ways. The last day was diffcult as I realized that I had become attatched to them, especially my group of five. The best group, of course.
My very favorite (it's bad to have favorites but we all do, despite 'loving them all equally,' even parents are guilty of this) reminded me of myself in certain ways. I see how I could have gone in that direction, anyhow. 'Plato's' intelligence was a curse, he was trapped in a system where he was only punished for it. He saw no rewards, he had no interest in being the teacher's pet (and all the social leporsy that entailed).
Instead, a kid who read above his level and knew every vocabulary word ahead of time flunked English year after year. Before I left I said goodbye to most of my kids, but couldn't find him. As I walked through the parking lot to my ride, I saw him and some of the other smart kids coming out from behind the building, where they had been smoking pot. For the record, it could have just been cigarettes, or they could have been playing marbles. Call it a crazy hunch, one that partly explains the prevalence of sleeping in class.
We have no idea what we're up against.
This is going to be so awesome.