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Bye Bye Mr. Stinky

I was a special education teacher. Matter of fact, I taught Special Education for four-and-a-half years. I taught some non-verbal kiddos how to read, increased the diversity in their diets, taught them games and social skills, and–what I am most proud of–I helped kids out of diapers, who were well past the time to meet that milestone… And let me tell you, that is not always an easy task. It is always a rewarding task. Find the carrot By carrot, I mean the motivation for doing something that is not preferred; for example, if you want to buy a beer, but you have no money, you might help a friend move. Moving is a total garbage activity, but he may pay you and buy you beer; if you know how to negotiate, you will get an unhealthy amount of pizza too. BAM! You had no money; now you have pizza, beer, and money, because you leveraged your time and effort. Potty training is no different. The kiddos usually don't know how to leverage their time and resources to get what t...
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Café Finesse

A "gentleman's drink," "hood," whatever you want to call it, is a meticulous matrimony of espresso and steamed milk, knit together to become what is commonly known as a cappuccino. The cappuccino stands as one of the most misunderstood experiences available almost nowhere but offered everywhere. I cannot count the times I have ordered a cappuccino only to receive a mound of foam with abandoned espresso lamenting its extraction on the bottom. It is the wet kitten of coffee. The cappuccino is more than just espresso and milk. It is not only espresso and foam either. The ceremonial blending of the elements is as tender and sensitive and romantic as a first kiss. The cappuccino is not a coffee drink, it is the coffee drink. It is not espresso but a perfection of it. Ordering a cappuccino "to go," as they say expecting a paper cup, is somewhat of a culinary indiscretion, but carelessly serving steamed milk, foam and espresso is a barefaced disregard fo...
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Unnamed

I have never been told to hate the junkie on the street To judge her value by her smell or filth or bare feet. And if I could choose whether she should live or die, The choice is clear, I would choose life. As for the bigot full of malice and anger I still have not been told to hate him either. And if I could choose whether he should live or die, The choice is clear; for him, I choose life. Being so young, I have not been told to be enraged At the killer living in his cage. Though the jury, judge, and law think he should die, The choice is clear; for him, I choose life. And the mother who chooses: “a baby is too much” For her reputation, comfort, career, and such. Or the Doctor helping her deal with the strife, I still don’t hate either; for them, I choose life. Or preachers and politicians condemning all of the above I don’t know how to hate them, my first instinct is love. He shouts and distorts each circumstance, saying they deserve to disappear, be locked aw...
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