This week, I didn’t get to march but I’ve been moving, a dawn to dusk rush of making copies, passing breakfast, creating exemplar responses, filling manila envelopes with mystery words, giving out Dojo points, texting parents, chasing kids for tutoring, resetting classroom procedures and correcting behavior and chanting and cheering - clap clap AWESOME - and then wolfing down a chocolate bar after pick-up duty before typing in data and meeting with parents and finding videos on Martin Luther King before driving home past the lettuce fields and the taco stands and the Walmart, sky streaked with the last bit of the sun that does rise the next morning, yellow like a Valley lemon.
This week, my smiles became bigger and my hugs more frequent but my no’s became firmer. I see so clearly now how they need to learn what is right and what is wrong. They can’t play around during class time or tell a classmate they hate them or laugh, describing Rosa Parks as “negrita.” They need to learn why that's not ok. They need to learn the words justice, discrimination, equality, overcome. They need to learn about Civil Rights leaders of all races. They need to learn how to turn and talk with a partner they may not know or even like, agreeing or respectfully disagreeing, because just that, I need to believe, will bring us all forward.