My Dog Ate My Homework
"Hey Miss, I figured out what I'm gonna do for the rest of my life."
This is how one of the kids entered the room today. He swaggers a lot. If you ask him to go back to his seat, he'll dance his way there. "Gotta go back to my seat..." he'll sing, "before my moms and teacher meet. Wouldn't wanna take the heat, so I'll sit down in this here seat..." He's about four foot five, his collared shirts hanging down to his knees. "It looks smart, huh?" he says on his way in each day. "The clothes. And the man." He's eleven.
"And what is that?" I ask him in response to his greeting.
"I'm gonna work at Foot Locker."
"Dream big, buddy. Dream big." I say this so he doesn't hear me.
"Well, what do you think?"
"Why Foot Locker?"
"Cause I can get myself some ill kicks."
"For the rest of your life."
"Yup."
"What happens when you're tired of your ill kicks? Then what?"
"Well, here's what I was thinking. I would get the illest kicks around, and then everyone would want them so they'd come to me and ask me for them so I'd trade them kicks for goods."
"Kicks for goods."
"Right, like those ancient people we read about in social studies."
"Like the people who had to trade food for clothing."
"Exactly! My sister works at Papa Gino's, so I can trade her kicks for pizza."
"There's your food."
"Yup. And if we move in with my other sister and her family, we can give them kicks and pizza and they'll let us live there."
"So you're going to live off of pizza for the rest of your life? What if you want something else?"
"Like what, KFC?"
"Like KFC."
"I guess I can save up."
"Sounds like a plan. So I'm curious though. What made you certain this is what you want to do in life - work at Foot Locker to get free kicks?"
"Free ILL kicks."
"Free ILL kicks."
"Well, you know how I told you I wanted to be a lawyer?"
"Yes. I thought that was a good career path for you."
"Cause I talk a lot. People tell me that."
"Because you talk a lot with purpose. Add that when people tell you you talk a lot. Say 'with purpose.' "
"With purpose."
"No, not now. Say it the next time someone tells you that you talk a lot."
"Ohh, right."
"Right. So what happened to your dreams of being a lawyer?"
"Do you know how long you gotta go to school for?"
"A long time."
"That's right, a long time. I figure, by the time I go to law school, I'll have grandchildren."
"You better not."
"Hey, I like the ladies, Miss. But that's not my point. My point is, it takes too long. So I gotta go to Foot Locker."
"So instead of being a lawyer - "
"I'm gonna sell kicks. And eat pizza."
"Wow."
"Now, look, Miss. You get up every day, right? You come here to school and talk to us kids and tell us grammar stuff, but I don't need none of that - "
"Any."
" - any of that to be a kicks salesman. And I tell you what, I'll hook you up with the illest pair we got when I start. You'd be the coolest lady on your block with all those white people and trees."
"Wow, thanks."
"I mean it. So you can just stop giving me writing lessons and making me read and telling me about grammar. And you definitely don't need to check my homework anymore, nope, no need for that."
"You didn't do your homework, did you?"
"Uhh..."
"I didn't hear that."
"No, Miss, I didn't."
"All this story was your way of telling me you didn't do your homework?"
"Not just that! And what I'm going to do with my life!"
"Right. Well, buddy, you certainly have a long winded way of going about it."
"What's long winded mean?"
"That you talk a lot."
"With purpose!"
This is how one of the kids entered the room today. He swaggers a lot. If you ask him to go back to his seat, he'll dance his way there. "Gotta go back to my seat..." he'll sing, "before my moms and teacher meet. Wouldn't wanna take the heat, so I'll sit down in this here seat..." He's about four foot five, his collared shirts hanging down to his knees. "It looks smart, huh?" he says on his way in each day. "The clothes. And the man." He's eleven.
"And what is that?" I ask him in response to his greeting.
"I'm gonna work at Foot Locker."
"Dream big, buddy. Dream big." I say this so he doesn't hear me.
"Well, what do you think?"
"Why Foot Locker?"
"Cause I can get myself some ill kicks."
"For the rest of your life."
"Yup."
"What happens when you're tired of your ill kicks? Then what?"
"Well, here's what I was thinking. I would get the illest kicks around, and then everyone would want them so they'd come to me and ask me for them so I'd trade them kicks for goods."
"Kicks for goods."
"Right, like those ancient people we read about in social studies."
"Like the people who had to trade food for clothing."
"Exactly! My sister works at Papa Gino's, so I can trade her kicks for pizza."
"There's your food."
"Yup. And if we move in with my other sister and her family, we can give them kicks and pizza and they'll let us live there."
"So you're going to live off of pizza for the rest of your life? What if you want something else?"
"Like what, KFC?"
"Like KFC."
"I guess I can save up."
"Sounds like a plan. So I'm curious though. What made you certain this is what you want to do in life - work at Foot Locker to get free kicks?"
"Free ILL kicks."
"Free ILL kicks."
"Well, you know how I told you I wanted to be a lawyer?"
"Yes. I thought that was a good career path for you."
"Cause I talk a lot. People tell me that."
"Because you talk a lot with purpose. Add that when people tell you you talk a lot. Say 'with purpose.' "
"With purpose."
"No, not now. Say it the next time someone tells you that you talk a lot."
"Ohh, right."
"Right. So what happened to your dreams of being a lawyer?"
"Do you know how long you gotta go to school for?"
"A long time."
"That's right, a long time. I figure, by the time I go to law school, I'll have grandchildren."
"You better not."
"Hey, I like the ladies, Miss. But that's not my point. My point is, it takes too long. So I gotta go to Foot Locker."
"So instead of being a lawyer - "
"I'm gonna sell kicks. And eat pizza."
"Wow."
"Now, look, Miss. You get up every day, right? You come here to school and talk to us kids and tell us grammar stuff, but I don't need none of that - "
"Any."
" - any of that to be a kicks salesman. And I tell you what, I'll hook you up with the illest pair we got when I start. You'd be the coolest lady on your block with all those white people and trees."
"Wow, thanks."
"I mean it. So you can just stop giving me writing lessons and making me read and telling me about grammar. And you definitely don't need to check my homework anymore, nope, no need for that."
"You didn't do your homework, did you?"
"Uhh..."
"I didn't hear that."
"No, Miss, I didn't."
"All this story was your way of telling me you didn't do your homework?"
"Not just that! And what I'm going to do with my life!"
"Right. Well, buddy, you certainly have a long winded way of going about it."
"What's long winded mean?"
"That you talk a lot."
"With purpose!"
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