Jack from Missouri (the “Show Me” State) … A Teacher’s Journal.

Emerald City High is located in an area where the economy is seasonal. Over the last several years, many businesses have been hiring kids from Eastern bloc countries to work summer jobs. This has put a great deal of pressure upon our local youth, who now must compete for work that they used to take for granted.

Just the other day, two of my best students, Star Winthrop and McKinley McCallister, rushed over to my café table in tears. It was early summer and I was enjoying my mocha latte and raspberry scone while studying the No Child Left Behind laws.

“Why, what’s the matter, Star?” I asked, concerned. “And you, McKinley, why the long, sad face?”

“The R-R-R-Russians!” sobbed Star. “They stole our bagger jobs!”

“That’s right,” McKinley said. “And Mr. Larsen, we’re, like, born in the U.S.A. We pay taxes and ***.”

“This is terrible,” I said. “Have you spoken to the manager about it?”

Star appeared to choke, sob, and gasp in a gurgling medley of grief. “We did,” she finally said, “but he wouldn’t listen.”

“He said we were unreliable,” McKinley muttered, his eyes growing dark with rage.

“Did he say anything else?” I asked.

Star cleared her throat. “Well, he said that we stole stuff.”

“And that’s a bald man’s ass in your face lie!” McKinley shouted. “We left a couple of beers by the fruit salad to pay for those candy bars.”

“I see,” I replied.

“Yeah, and you know something else, Mr. Larsen?” Star said. “The manager said that we had poor people skills.” Star snorted with contempt. “I ain’t poor.”

McKinley shrugged. “I ain’t poor, either.”

“I’m not sure he meant that,” I said, gently. “What did he say exactly about your skills?”

“Well, we’re baggers, Mr. Larsen,” Star said. “That means that we put stuff in bags.”

I nodded.

“And sometimes, customers act like such gay bitches, you know?”

I nodded again.

“And, you know, you don’t talk to me a certain way,” Star said, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah,” McKinley added, “cause if you *** with us, we will *** with you.”

“Did someone speak harshly to you in the supermarket checkout line?” I asked.

“This fat hog tells me to watch where I’m putting her eggs,” Star said.

“And then what happened?”

Star stared at me. “I told her to take her goddamn eggs and shove them right up her...

 READ MORE...

http://www.donaldgallinger.com/dons-blog.html