My Upstairs Neighbors
We’ve all had/have them or maybe you are them. They’re annoying and inconsiderate and probably are terrible human beings. You know who I’m talking about y’all…the upstairs neighbor. They are a boil on the ass that is apartment living. Why do they choose between the hours of 10pm-1 am to be the biggest d-heads on the planet? Are you dragging a body up there sir? Why are you vacuuming when you have hardwood floor, ma’am? Why is a rave going on in your apartment at 9pm on a Tuesday? Why are we practicing to be in Wrestlemania at 11:30 at night? Why did you buy bricks for shoes? Why am I watching Fear Thy Neighbor on Discovery+? That’s a true crime series about people who murder their neighbors because they just couldn’t take it anymore. Now I do not condone murder in any way but sometimes I gotta tell y’all, I understand the rage.
It’s Okay to Not Be Okay
Black people: It’s okay to not be okay. She’s a strong black woman. That’s something you always hear when you see a successful black woman in public or a woman who has had to overcome trauma and come out relatively okay. “Strong”. Like we’re superhuman or something. Like we wear capes all day long or are masked crusaders coming to save people at night. While that all sounds lovely and perhaps a new character for DC or Marvel to delve into, it’s not the truth. Like, at all.
We’ll call him Bobby
We’ll call him Bobby The Adventures of Miss Tee and the Little Yellow School Buses. As I mentioned before, I have been working with students with special needs for close to 20 years. I have had seen hundreds of kids come and go through the years but there’s always a few that stand out, be it for good or bad reasons. There’s always a few that leave an imprint in your brain. You may forget a dozen faces but there’s always one face or name that you don’t. I have a such a story about a kid that we’ll call Bobby. Bobby, as of 2022, is in his early 30s. I know that because by chance his stepfather was my Lyft driver one day and we got to talking about where I work and he made a comment that his son Bobby had gone to the school I work at. Long story short , Bobby is alive. Is he well? Who can say?
I’m Not Your Token
We’re not your tokens. That’s what I always say. Only rock n roll can move my soul. Yes I like Bone Thugs and Outkast every now and then and I love 80s and 90s R&B. But the thing that’s get my blood flowing and the tears streaming down my face is rock n roll. From classic rock to heavy metal, in the words of Joan Jett, put another dime in the jukebox baby.
Women Like Sports, too
I love sports. I absolutely adore them. I have three teams I root for passionately and religiously. I have my superstitions the day the play their games. When I was much younger I issued to collect jerseys like it was going out of style. I have been to multiple games live and up close. I’m an entire woman. And a proud black one at that. I was born in the 80s so I grew up on the Showtime Lakers and the Lasorda Dodgers. I grew up a Raiders and Rams fan but when they both left Los Angeles, I found a new team to adore back in 1994…The Green Bay Packers. I was at my uncle’s house and the Packers were playing the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (back when both teams were in the same division), the QB of the Packers who wore #4 was just flinging the ball all over the field. His attitude seemed to be maybe Sterling Sharpe catches it or maybe The Bucs DB catches it. I guess we’ll all find out together. A gunslinger they called him. Favre was on the back. I said, “How do you pronounce that?” My uncle side eyed me and said it’s pronounced “Farv”. Brett Favre? Okay, well I like the way he plays. And also the Minister of Defense, Reggie White (I remember when he played for the Philadelphia Eagles) was on the other side? Oh I’m in!
No Experience, No Training, Good Luck
Adventures of Miss Tee and The Little Yellow Buses Ahem, I’m going to get on my soapbox. I would like to give a huge amount of love to all the paraeducators, instructional aides (be it sped or general) and behavior interventionists. Nobody ever gives us the credit we deserve. It may sound arrogant to say but we run those classrooms. Those special ed classes can not survive without us. We know these kids better than the teachers do because we’re with them all the time. We know their tics, habits, stims, what will set them off, what brings them comfort, what makes them sick and what makes them well.
Fibroids aren’t my friend
On November 1, 2021, I was perfectly fine, or at least I thought I was. Trying to be safe in this pandemic, going to work at a very physically and mentally taxing job every day, working out three to four times a week, attempting to have a social life in the midst of all of this chaos and watch over my mental health. However, on November 4 at about 1 o clock in the morning, I was no longer fine. I was lying in bed when I felt a sharp pain on my right side. I soon discovered, I couldn’t even move to get to the ibuprofen that was maybe ten feet away on the table.