Friday in June, days from the end.

During his morning piss, Lenny saw a fox standing in the middle of the road. It looked only slightly orange, mostly white and gray, black highlights around his face. Lenny took off, and I had to take off behind him. The fox stared for a second and then turned 90 degrees into the neighbor's yard, and his shaggy tail tucked between his legs.

Yesterday, my 10th graders did an assignment with PostSecret. They were to write PostSecret cards for the characters from Raisin in the Sun, but before they could do that, they had to know what PostSecret was. I said don't go to the website without your parent's permission, it can be kind of scandy and as I was saying this, Dan was at the desk behind me, pulling up the website. And this was the secret that came up.

And the entire class laughed, and he blanked the screen, and Dan said it said she really wants to put a cucumber in her salad, and George, the student, said yeah, to toss the salad and I was laughing and laughing and laughing. And then apologizing.

Later in that class, I read a PostSecret about a post-it a ten-year-old had written that said I hate my life and then a girl said Oh my God, I would kill myself if my kid wrote that.

A few minutes letter, a couple of girls came up to me and said Ms. P, there is something wrong with A. And I looked over at A, and she had crawled under her desk. She had crawled under her desk and was sitting with her legs crossed as though she was in a little desk-fort with a protective writing-surface roof, and she was crying. And I went and sat cross-legged next to her on the floor.

I said, A what's up? Is everything okay? What's going on? And a single tear slid down her cheek, a bag of freezer peas slowly thawing.

She wouldn't look at me, she said it's just that comment about somebody saying they'd kill themself.

This is not the first time A has cried because somebody brought up suicide in class. When we watched Othello stab himself in the stomach a couple of weeks ago and a kid in class said dude, not realistic, if you stab yourself in the stomach it takes a long time to die, and then kids said yeah, he would be like oh, hey guys, what's going on, after he killed himself, like he'd be bleeding out of his stomach and then he'd be all, so how about those Knicks while he's waiting to die.

A's response was to cry. I felt horrible. I'd laughed at their joke, and she said suicide is not a joke and I was a very bad person and a very bad teacher. I took her in the hall, and I apologized that I had laughed, too, and I said that people always deal with things that are uncomfortable by laughing and making jokes, and it was hard for the class to watch that scene. I think people are not always cognizant of what happens around them or who their comments might hurt.

I said the same thing to her yesterday, I said that the student's comment was just an over-dramatic teenager thing to say. I brought tissues into her little fort, I sat back on the floor and chatted with her some more. The bell rang, she left. I emailed her counselor.

On Tuesday, a girl cried in front of the whole class when we were talking about racism. Her father, from Mexico, had his car searched, and the dogs tore it up, and it was all without probable cause, and it was in Wayzata, and it was so racist. I brought her tissues. I hugged her in front of the class and thanked her for sharing. I chatted with her after everyone stopped staring at her in their sympathetic I-don't-know-what-to-do-I'm-fifteen way. I asked her more questions. Her nose started bleeding.

Yesterday, when we were talking about racism, a girl said, after I mentioned that sometimes dogs can appear racist because of what they are exposed to, so, but, can dogs be racist? No, no, I mean, not toward people, but like, toward other dogs.

My laughter made me bend at the middle to gain composure.

Yesterday, the turd-eater handed in his last essay. The purpose of the essay was an ad analysis, to discuss the cultural and sexual implications of an advertisement and how offensive images (constantly seen) can affect the way a culture or gender perceives itself. From his essay:

the white dress which is very inocent [sic] as though she's a virgin, makes her seem a little naughty and that she's already a little tipsy and feeling good.

...it looks like she wants it pretty bad. ...she wants it pretty bad. She's wearing some cowboy boots, showing she's not afraid to get down and dirty, in meaning more than one, and this wine puts a little cowgirl in everyone.

...some Cockatoo Ridge wine she'd like some of the actual COCKatoo. It portrays that some women are sluts when they've had that tasty wine they like so much. The bird on her arm is the replacement for what she really wants, a little bit of dick.

...the girl is really cute and is showing she likes to have fun, all girls do. ...she has naughty written all over her. ...this ad has a very sexy lady...she lives on a farm, which usually [sic] the best things are made by farmers. The advertisers using sex alone [sic] to sell their product. Nothing else. But it looks like a good advertisement because of how they put the girl with the bird looking all sexy.