With the end of the school year still over a month away, everyone at I.S. 666 is getting restless.

It's warm enough for the tulips to toss their silken heads skyward, but not yet hot enough for the snap of dried stems, all straining ending with the advent of the sultriest days.

So why are we still cramped inside our wartorn school watching the city grow lush and green from smudged classroom windows? It's a shame.

I teach my least favorite class of the week on Fridays. Today I felt bad for the hoodlums - all of their teachers for the rest of the day were absent and their class was being self-contained. Almost all of the opportunities for evil have been exhausted this far in the year, with the exception of actually killing someone. That, however, might lead to consequences and might be more trouble than it's worth.

The students were understandably sulky and dejected. What would they do all day? It rained all night and the sky was just then taking a break. Too humid to playfight.

There's no joy in Thugville.

Ever since that one atrocious Friday in March - the 9,785,123rd time I pondered bringing a gun to school to pistol whip the kids into shape - this class and I have an understanding: Don't fight, use prohibited items, or disrespect me. You can choose to sleep. You can choose to fail. But don't go against basic school policy. If you're looking for a fight, an audience for your plethora of ring tones, or a human punching bag, cut class with all the other fools up in this bitch.

Mmkay?

Michael X actually answered a question about who the narrator of a short story was. Now that will come in handy someday. Victory in education!

(Ecstasy in weekends)!