I ate the little shit’s tootsie rolls. Under the Obama’s presidential photo, the president beaming with arms crossed, I slowly chewed my tootsie roll and hummed the tune to Simon & Garfunkle’s Punky’s Dilemma. The kids in my classroom adored our first Black president with the big ears and purple smoker’s lips. They mimicked his distinctive mannerisms and the cadence of his voice the way C-town kids of my parents’ generation might have mimicked their beloved JFK, I thought. I bit into another tootsie roll, working through the whole plastic baggie of tootsie rolls, slowly and one by one, methodically unpeeling each wrapper, mounting my silent protest—but, in the principal’s eyes, as it would turn out later, refusing to teach 45 minutes out of a 55-minute class. I hated the few days around Halloween when all the teachers gave out …
