Word of the Day: Savage

Today is Tuesday.

On this day, I go from being Mr. Johnson to J Savage.

The T in my first name is a dominant figure head in this all male recessive middle school classroom.

This is a Personal Health instead of the usual P.E. class so I already know that they don’t want book work, just that work on the basketball court.

This makes the 7th, 8th, and 6th graders (in that order) in this Related Arts class lit with the big word that frightens their small world:


The 5 Steps of Goal Setting is what the lesson pertains to today, but it is here where Dru Hill begins and nine plus ten equals to a student that talks to me like he is 21 Savage minus 21 which is absence on his Savage T-shirt.

If you subtract the correct total for nine plus ten and twenty-one, you’ll get how much testosterone he lacked after he realized what happens when Mr. Johnson doesn’t have his daily cup of Black Coffee.

The goal of the day was short-term: Make it through the day without absolute chaos.

He became a long-term one.

As it became apparent that he needed to Get It Together (inserts Drake’s Equation)

He even had a Wingman to accompany his shenanigans.

I recall the debate we had:


Me: There is no I in team.

Them: There is a me though.

Me: There is a me in them too.

Them: And who is them?

Me: Them is you. All of you.

You’d think that this would be a #savageshutdown.


You see, this is when they feel the need to roast me (Correction: They try. Lord, they try.)

And they get loud.

Very, very loud.

And profanity?

As plentiful as 21 Savage says the number throughout his songs (21).

They learn a lesson in the art of rhetoric:

Profanity and vocal elevation don’t equate to being comical while insulting your opposition.

And I frequently tell them that I’m clearly not funny (like Sinfield; seriously not funny).

Although both factors do add life to my monotone speech and poker face, they don’t see the ace in the hole.

I’m letting the coach in on the play-by-play footage.

Perhaps the most savage thing that I’ve done is inadvertently let them in on a long-term goal that has been set since the beginning:

Thursday’s Throwback from Tuesday’s Transformation exposes Marvin’s Room when they don’t get any playtime on the sidelines.

In the famous words of yet another little man:

You gone learn today!

KEEP IT 100: Chapter 12

Pie Pie the Sailor Man

And a can of Spinach

Can save Olive

But in the mist of the blue seas




Olive Oil.

At the tip of his anchor

A lot of dead weight

Dropped into the sea

But not into what counts the most.

And yes,

There are many, many fishes in the sea,

He counts only one.

But as green as he can be,

Why can’t he ever get that pussy?

He is a cocky one,



Erect when she is in danger.

Just remember and don’t forget

Cats can swim.

They eat fish.



Word of the Day: Lit

Back to my home school, the school where I graduated from.

So it seems that apparently I’m lame for reading out the assignment in Kodak Black.

This is progress, because not one of them are doing their assignment (because they know that this coach doesn’t like to assign heavy bookwork. Some manage to do it later during the day.)

Today’s playlist is dedicated to the Twitter video of the skaters rolling in the basement, with a mellow bassline.

I just want to chill today.

Without Netflix, without inferring R&B group Guy (as I know some of these students will possibly be doing after school or during the weekend. If the climate is as I’d expect, the temperature will be rising afterwards because this baseline will make even grown folks weak. This is not delibrate, just a part of growing up.)

I’m not trying to deal with some students that feel it necessary not to tell me when they are going to the restroom without my permission.

(Because honestly, if your bladder was as lit as your accusations of lame are to me, you’d take it into consideration that I’m trying to look out for you. Jo James’s Permission comes to mind here as it is getting closer and closer to the weekend and with the sheer irony of being placed next to a Driver Ed class, the green light for them is a yellow for me.)

Some of them want normal.

A retrospection of our predicament comes to some discovery that normal is too…


You shouldn’t have tunnel vision (Kodak Black reference).

The baseline in these Psychology/African-American History classes serves as an inference to everything planned for the present (but not what happens when you include Netflix in the equation.)

A Polaroid picture is taken metaphorically (while I question Kodak Black’s authenticity), shaking the color into perspective as the term lit compares to extravagant melody. 

I can’t get a break today, as my planning period is coverage for yet another class of upperclassmen. They were interestingly intrigued by my music, wanting to hear throwback R&B songs favorable for the moment of Netflix and chill but I gave them a L and bounced back with songs from my high school years (still lit).

That L is for Lesson, not a Loss, but when referencing quotes from the artists of their “old(the late 80‘s and early 90‘s), they were Lost instead.

As the temperature rises, they fall for the biggest trick in the book.

Climate change.

All of these El Nino’s  and La Nina’s don’t understand the caution that comes from being the authority figure when predicting the probability of the weather outside the classroom.

I’d prefer the storm to be self-contained within, something that I’m used to in my personal life.

But, that’s a tale for another time.

Until then, I need the bell system to work and 3:15pm to Come and See Me (No Party Next Door today) because the candle is beginning to dim and I need to sleep.

Word of the Day: Clapback

6th grade…

The struggle of making first impressions is comparable to the art form made famous in the 18th century.


Now, you’d think that 6th grade math and history are incompatible here – the age of the students (being 12 years) and the grade that they are currently in (the 6th).

But, if you total the moment of time spent from this past (18th century) you’d realize that this seems to be the only commutable moment where history and time could be around each other to enjoy each other’s company.

At this present moment, the assignment is improvised:

  • Take the roll
  • Call the roll that was written by the students to verify three genuine things about them.

I secretly conduct an experiment in reference to time and time spent (a ratio for future endeavors) giving the students the responsiblity of writing their names on the paper and verifying their presence with my calling and response.

Some are timid.

Others are bold.

I tell them of the past untold in metaphor.

I clapback with barz (As they call them. I tell them that I’m not a rapper)

They find it amusing, confusing, but are intrigued by my knowledge of hashtags, trap rappers, and songs that they assume I’m too old to understand.

I expected Bad and Boujee by Migos but instead I got one Lil Uzi Vert that thought that I was corny (With my clapback game strong with rebuttal to this child. You don’t get to call me corny and lame and I eat corny folks like you like I eat all other vegetables. You can’t comeback with statements asking me whbruh. Your lame today was lame then. Stay in yo lane.).

But I’ve learned to let them be great (another word for foolish).

After all, I am the Impressionist.

This is my Salon.

And they are the critics.



KEEP IT 100: Chapter 11


A word.

A lack of doing


But what is there to become?

Is it befitting

Or becoming of anything

Any one thing

As nothing applies?

Is it absent mindedness

Mindful of our actions

When we know what we don’t know?

Where did nothing go

When we lose our train of thought?

Pressing matters

Trivial manners

Of maybe’s

In make-believe

Belief is something

But not knowing?

That is something else.

Is it really nothing at all?

Perhaps elsewhere

Lies something other than

Nothing at all.


Can it be summed up in one word?

Like nothing is concerned?



Word of the Day: Recycle

Another Throwback Thursday but they contradict themselves when listening to recycled materials.

Engineering is appled mathematics is the phrase I utter aplenty here in this classroom full of bright (lit) minds but Lord knows that they hate that worksheet of Geometry that the teacher left in his absence.

And the students think that I’m absence minded.

Everyday I’m lit bruh! 

And they ask questions:

  1. Are you on drugs?
  2. Why can you play some other music? This music is wack.

I answer in kind:

  1. I’m on sacrasm. I’m sure you feel its side effects.
  2. Recycled material is what you always listen to, you just don’t give props to its source.

But is it fear of the unknown that they don’t like?

I think that it’s the difference between axioms and postulates instead.

They dislike rules but follow them anyway (A contradiction).

They Break Ups 2 Make Up by Method Man without empirical method yo!

No flow!

Apieron comes to mind here, as I engineer philosophical content like DJ Khaled engineers hits, but they seem to pay no mind (at times) to the original content renewed and reused for our listening ears.

An academic paradox comes into play here.

That contradiction – the disdain that is rule following, is quite a Philosophical Investigation.

The Paradox of Rule-Following is quite a chore, and this is first period.

I will admit, the other classes were alright but there are always bad apples (Can I call them antigravitational anomalies that slightly appose the Laws of Motion; being that the primary issue of problematic challenge is often male and is either my height or slightly taller that feels emotions of authority).

Although I often find it ironic that it’s always either the first or final period that often has its share of kinetic energy, there is never a dull moment in any class. This is possibly because I enact the philosophical concept of Anaximander as a beacon of knowledge with my Vans on (but they look like dress shoes – keeping the swag on fleek for real).

KEEP IT 100: Chapter 10


It burns.



It penetrates.



It moves.



The pain.



The fear.



The horror.



They come.


I am.

I freeze.



The terror.



I hope.



They fall.


They are.



So many.



I crawl.



A light.



We fight!



We press on…



A little closer…



I cry...



So many died…



They follow…



They fire…



I’m tired… 


My hands.


Please don’t!







Word of the Day: Don’t

Bryson Tiller‘s Don’t comes to mind today in this classroom of upperclassmen.

I remember them when they were in their previous grades, when don’t was more than someone caught up in their feelings.

Conversations about holes and keys, lost in transition (as I remind them that this is Throwback Thursday. The conversations bring up two of R. Kelly’s hits: You Remind Me of Something and Ignition. Two throwbacks that possibly made their parents throw it back and create them through Bump and Grind).

I play a playlist of instrumentals as they are the lyrics of the moment.

It seems counterintuitive that the lyrics from this class (although well-behaved and well mannered) stress the narrative of the Bryson Tiller’s song.

  • A student (wearing primary, secondary, and tertiary colors) in red and brown (with orange shorts and Christmas themed undies; for tis his season to be naughty) taking self-portraits of himself to put on the Snap (abbreviation for Snapchat).
  • Another set of students playing games on their phones (One of them doesn’t even like one of the games that they are playing, but he is with a friend; the same one that speaks of keys and holes as he seemingly sucks at 8 ball while calling out another while being just as bad as them).

Don’t play with her, don’t be dishonest (Aye)

Still not understanding this logic (Aye)

This expectation is to be expected in the primary teacher’s absence; the activity of play while trying to keep oneself from doing work that one doesn’t want to do (hence the term; don’t).

They don’t want to do this.

But they must.

And they do.

Even when they don’t.

(Except one, because Christmas came early with his chestnuts hidden by bright and early layers that I’d rather wish not to see. Dude is sagging like cake layers, cake baking on the Snap!)

Much like the acronym thot, a contradiction has just as much premise as holes is to “o‘s”.

A comma condenses and combines conjunctions, conjoining intuitive action into conviction.

(Like a belt used to keep one’s pants on their waist)

And like a game of pool, disjunction has its place in playing either solid or striped colors.

Ornamented in green and red. 

Covered in orange.

Brown pants too.

As the 8 ball in the corner of an entire classroom of students that have turned in their assignments, I wonder if the young elf realizes that good behavior and classwork attempted count more than one or the other.

Both apply.

But elves like him have their Bald Kelly phase.

When bad grades put their work ethic on lock.

At that point, bruh becomes sir.

And don’t becomes do.

And my duty is done.