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This is a continuation of my journal from my 2001-2002 school year.  Please read the previous posts to give this entry context.  

Martin Luther King, Jr’s Day 

My husband and I and a friend went out to see a movie on the big screen.  We seldom do this.  We can’t abide people talking or loudly munching popcorn during the movie.  A cell phone ringing in the theater will launch my husband into an extended rant.  At home we’re not subjected to any of the inconveniences of being with people. We lie in front of the fire, in whatever state of dress we please, pause when we like, and replay when needed.

But, as my husband argued, Black Hawk Down was one of those movies that would be best seen on a big screen and our friend wanted to go.  Even though we went to a late afternoon matinee, I felt like an over-stimulated child and could not sleep.  The bombardment of the images, the hell of Mogadishu, the tension of feeling the certain doom of the soldiers.  We went out to eat and then came home to watch the news which my husband had taped: The Palestian/Israeli conflict, the friction between India and Pakistan, the volcano spewing over Goma, Democratic Republic of the Congo, creating thousands and thousands of homeless refugees.  Miserable, bleak, sandy, devastated images, so much like Mogadishu. My head felt tight like when you want to cry, but don’t. 

We accidentally left the heater on and I woke up at two, hot, thirsty, my head pounding. 

Tuesday

We’re looking at an excerpt of Martin Luther King, Jr’s “I Have a Dream” speech.  We will be considering the elements of persuasion and attacking the rather heady State Standard: Evaluate the clarity, quality, effectiveness and overall coherence of a speakers’ key points, arguments, evidence, organization of ideas, delivery, diction and syntax.

In the meantime, the girls were wishing we had more boys in the class. 

“This is the fewest boys I’ve ever had in a class,” I remarked.  I went on to say that sixth period, probably because of the number of girls, was very talkative.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Lupe asked. 

“It depends on whether the talk is focused or not.”

I wore some new clothes to school today.  My friend Roxanne had told me about a sale at Gottschalk’s so on Sunday evening, my husband and I braved shopping at the mall.  The store was practically giving clothes away.  Discounted items were marked down fifty percent and then there was no sale’s tax.  For $139, I bought three shirts, a dress suit, and a sweater jacket .

Today I wore my new gray and black sweater jacket with its boa collar over my new white knit top.  I was styling.  By sixth period the room was warm enough that I shed the sweater.  The students kept looking and snickering and trying to contain giggles.  I knew something was wrong, so finally I asked.  “What is so funny?”

Diana was the brave one.  “There’s fuzz all over your shirt.”

I looked down.  My white shirt looked as though I’d been petting my cat.  An evil black grape stuck on the tip of my nipple.  I plucked off the offending blob. No wonder the students were laughing.

“Right on my boob,” I said.  “How embarrassing.” 

What’s a person supposed to do?  I find it’s much better to deal with these things head-on.

When the students were filing out, Amanda gave me a parting fashion tip. “Next time you use that jacket, Ms. Hansen, be sure to wear a black blouse.”