Yo Mista!

It's either sunrise or sunset, I can't tell. A mid-sized, blue car is parked outside what is probably our apartment. We're on the ground floor. I can see our back door from where we're standing in the parking lot. I'm in Mom's arms as she circles around and around the blue car. I'm crying. We're being chased by Dad, although I can't see him because my face is buried in Mom's shoulder. There is a lot of screaming. I spot blood stains on Mom's sleeve, but it's definitely not my blood. I spot her clothes and jewelry scattered all over the ground. "Stand clear of the closing doors. STAND CLEAR! DO NOT BLOCK THE DOOR!" I'm on my way back home from school and I've fallen asleep on the subway. I do that a lot. I wake up a stop before I'm supposed to get off, calm and refreshed. The subway always puts me to sleep after work. The gentle rocking of the train combined with chatter is New York City's version of a lullaby...

This was too funny not to repost. Obviously, 3.14 is a simple approximation for pi. Here's pi to million digits. Memorize that for the quiz on Friday, bitch.

Sometimes, I miss investment banking. Well, not really, just some aspects about the job. The paycheck was nice, and so were some of the perks, but what I really miss is the ridiculousness of others trying to get into the business while I was working there. As a college graduate from a state school, I really had to differentiate myself throughout the investment banking job application process. I had to create an amazing (amazingly ridiculous, more like) story about why investment banks should hire me. The competition was cut-throat: each bank put candidates through two or three rounds of interview "super days." A super day is a day-long session of interviews with anywhere between five to ten interviews. That means that if you received just one offer from an investment bank, you very likely went through at least twelve interviews to get it. This rigorous selection process may be part of the reason why this job appears to be so glamorous. Exhibit A : A rare instance captured...

I'm standing in front of the class, spinning around a meter stick in one hand and holding a marker in the other. I'm using neither of these things: the class has gone off-topic and I'm okay with that. It's good to use these times to learn what my kids are interested in and what sorts of observations they make. Today, we're talking about the Mayan prophecy regarding the end of the world in December of 2012. I teach algebra by the way. "Yo, this blowin' mines. If this shit is real, that means I just spent my whole damn life in school," Bryan, a student who barely comes to class remarked. We've only spent about two minutes on this top and I'm already bored of this topic. "Seriously, Bryan? You seriously believe in that crap? Remember the priest last year who predicted the world would end in May? And yet, here we are, not dead. These things are basically idiotic theories created by people with an agenda. Fools spread them and idiots accept...

Over the past three years, I've felt some pretty positive things as a NYC high school teacher. Sometimes my students say something to me or do something so amazing that I can't help but feel a warm sense of happiness oozing out of my chest. It's quite disgusting. These are the things that put to ruin my theory that I am capable being in control of how I feel all of the time. I frequently receive these "warm and fuzzy" feelings from Arnold and Della. These kids aren't the typical high school sweethearts (I've written about Arnold before, you can read it here ). For one thing, they're not that annoying couple that can't seem to get their hands off each other in class and then break up one week later. You people are the reason why bands like My Chemical Romance exist. Anyway, I've taught both Arnold and Della, and they are a pleasure to have in class. What's amazing is that they actually motivate each other, both in and out of schoo...