look into the eyes of the child. age 6. This morning i woke up thinking about Sandy hook and Adam Lanza. My thoughts started with the realization that it is that month and it is almost that day. The day i was celebrating with my student and little people with a traditional native American ritual for educational and ceremonial purposes.

I woke up and glanced sullenly at the photos of students who have come and gone within my care during these years i lost count. Thinking that these children. These little sand promises are now are teenagers and many have graduated into grown up hate or love if they are lucky enough to fight for their lives with all ounce of breath.

The innocent faces behind a giant shock to the tiny system and the majority freeze play in 66 lashes of ravioli. The cheese rotting and sticking to the private parts when no one is around to inspect the crevice’s or behind the ears.

Those all grown up can work it out with all the pod tubes and potty tablets there is no reason to hold the lead account. anthem to the flag and prepared to skydive tandems for whimps, and we all trust that bullies are not wiiiimppppsss just people with rights to emulate the house models.

The gunshot sound is faint with the too many barrel of tricks are for kids and the bell rang and the cafeteria is closed now get the ‘cover your ears before you cause me to say something inappropriate’ and scar you for life. your fault not mine kid………….mr lanza i presume if i am not mistaken. have a seat and take a number. The manager is on a break.