$ Monsters + Little Gifts

I woke up in the night thinking about money. This isn't the first time. The monster periodically lurks under my bed, poised to grab my foot as I desperately leap onto my mattress and fumble to the safety of darkness under the covers.

During waking hours I can talk myself down. "The student loans aren't going to kill you." "You will be able to enjoy life." "What is the worst that can happen?" "They aren't going to cut off your fingers, now are they?" "Day-to-day it will all work out."

But sometimes in the night the demons catch me by surprise. I remind myself again that it is useless to fret. Why get jacked out of shape about the fact that 1% of the population in the US possesses equal wealth to the other 99%? It is pointless to be frustrated that this administration is taking away all safety nets for ordinary people. It is useless to think about the cost of the Iraq War, or Halliburton kickbacks in their Iraq contract, or government screw-overs, corruption, needless spending, $450 hammers, all of the shit. It is useless to mourn over what could have been.

Look reality in the face. This is here and now. And this morning the birds are beginning to sing outside my window and I can forget how hard it is to move up the class ladder in this country of ours. I can forget the toll that it has taken on my family for me to work so long so fucking hard, full time school, full time work, full time energy-sucking monster on the day side.

Ha. Sometimes I console myself with death (don't you?). Well, we are all going to die, does it really matter how we get there (rhetorical question)? All of the struggles, all the bullshit, all the inequity, all leveled. I find the thought at times quite soothing.

At other times the future welcomes me, bursting with busy happiness.

Yesterday, standing before my students, arms crossed and threatening (the ADHD crowd needed to do some work!), my mohawk-boy caught my eye from the other side of the room and winked at me. I couldn't help it. I grinned and winked back. Using all of their self-control, they worked diligently for five more minutes, holding onto the promise of 4 minutes of freedom at the end of class... a time with permission to get up, move around, speak when they felt like it. A small gift, and the least I can do.

An Open Discussion of Class Warfare--"Of Course You Realize This Has Meant War"