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Sun, 10 Sep 2023, 07:30 PM (-06:00) Creative Commons License


It was the first full week of school. The seating chart was finally stabilizing. I was slowly beginning to associate names with faces. The students were beginning to get used to my sound effects. After one of the morning classes, Elizabeth came up to me as the others were leaving the room.

“Mister,” she said. “Do you live alone?”

Um. Ok. 

“No,” I said. “I live with my wife and our little dog.”

“That’s good,” she said. “You’re too nice to live alone.”

Her friend behind her asked, “What kind of dog do you have?”


It was the end of the last period of the Friday of the fourth week of school. We were done with the lesson, and the bell was about to ring. I was salvaging some plastic bottles from the garbage can and putting them into my recycle box.

“Mister?” Ida said. She sits at the table closest to the garbage can, so it was easy to hear her over the late Friday hubbub.


“Do you color your hair?”

I laughed. 

“Well what do you think?” I asked, running my fingers through my bangs. She didn’t answer.

“I don’t color my hair,” I said. 

There was murmuring in the classroom.

© jumpingfish by David Hasan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License