Solution Series: Service

Struggle is a never ending process. Freedom is never really won, you earn it and win it in every generation….struggle…never ending process…freedom…never really won…you earn it…win it in every generation…struggle…freedom…never ending…win…every generation…struggle…earn…win…never ending…freedom…in every generation….every…generation.

Gravel pops from underneath tires. Some are chewed back into pavement , while others are spit across lots. Car, truck, mini-van, and SUV doors open and close. Vehicles fight for position in the drop-off line. The pretentious all decide to colonize two painted lines. The big vans retire to the back. They are the senior citizens—the backbone of the transporters. They carry a load other automobiles cannot.

Short legs stomp on the gravel. They race towards the entrance, all of them escorted—some by screams of anticipation and others by pouts of disdain. Another day with the folks from big people school. Poor lucky kids.

Taller legs usher in the stampede. They express their queered love for them; then give directions—usually passing them to teammates. Passing is the key to great offense. After the assist, the taller legs speak with the few line colonizers, reassuring them that their seeds are in the hands of capable planters.

Meanwhile, the seeds sit at tables and make commotion with each other and some of the taller legs. Some manage to stimulate small minds; others don’t. Everyone can’t handle the ball. Luckily, they’re a team.

A guy in slacks and a wrinkled button-up shirt comes to the front and talks. Everyone gets quiet, but no one really listens. A slender girl with long hair and glasses passes out books. Children pick them up with distaste. Most are genuine. Others try to fit in. Peer-pressure is a mountain.

They get things started. Ambiguous thoughts reshape the room. She keeps checking her cell phone. What is taking him so long to text back? Oh, she lost service. Ain’t that a…

He looks down at the boy sitting next to him. This kids things he’s dumb. He’s not really reading. Quiz him once he’s done. Yea, that’ll get him.

Two girls have discussions in-between administering pedagogy to the 5 kids at their table. They secretly remember being in love. His name always seem to come up over Dasani water bottles and Doublemint chewing gum. Memories of the most painful bliss.

Still no service…

The name the little girl wrote on the paper traps him. It brings back memories of everyone laughing at him. He always made everyone laugh at him. He snaps back into reality. That was then. This is now. They are in different places now, but he contemplates stealing the admiration of that bully’s little sister. That would almost be as sweet as revenge.

The little girl keeps complaining. “This book is too hard.” She is always making her do what she can’t do. She thinks taller legs are mean, especially her. She wants her mama. Her mama never makes her read….

Still no service…

They stick her with most of the kids from the church bus. How is she supposed to care about them when they’re own parents don’t even have the decency to drop them off. As soon this session is done, she’s out! None of the kids from their neighborhood ever do anything right anyway. She’s just wasting her time.

It’s hard for him to focus on the task at hand. He keeps thinking about her. He has that funny stomach feeling and everything. She’s gone now. She left his life last night. She finally got fed up with all the traffic. She could never find a parking space.

Still no service….

He’d be cute if he ironed his shirt.
She think she knows everything.
They’re nothing but a bunch of college kids.

Still no service…

They end up off schedule. They always start and end late. Everyone is irritable, hungry, or just anxious to leave. She steps outside to use her phone. Hopefully she can get some service. Everyone is in searching of something.

It’s community service.

OxyJon