No algorithm is going to teach mandated reporters that white families are just as dangerous as other families.
Turning out in droves despite rain and wind and snow, we marched and chanted and beat on bucket-drums and blew on whistles and papered the campus with fliers. We disrupted classes. We shut down buildings.
If you ever hear me screaming “What if there’s more? What if there’s more?” I’m just singing along.
Coming off a slow, ugly but eventually conclusive first-round victory over Montana, the Wolverines are riding a wave of 10-straight wins. May the streak run longer than their inseams.
November 19, 2014
I blew strawberry gelatin mix out of my nose today.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Locusts. They were good enough for John the Baptist; they are good enough for your toddler.
I still talk to myself. Big conversations I’ve rehearsed of late include a breakup, a car insurance claim, and a defense of “inappropriate” literature I’ve chosen for a class.
I didn’t swerve around the pothole because I didn’t see it. In many ways, I’ve forgotten how to look outside myself and outside my culture.
I think when we look down on children it’s because we have momentarily, or perhaps chronically, forgotten that little kid inside earnestly whispering, “Don’t forget me. I’m still here.”
The main reason for the break up was something she called “bad timing.”