I introduced my students to the wonderful world of jazz-based poetry readings today, with a recording of Jack Kerouac's "The Subterraneans" and Gil Scott-Heron's "Whitey on the Moon." Kerouac had some great lines, but not as trippy as I would've imagined. It kind of went over the heads of the youth, which was ok today, since they were in decent - if not excellent - form today. "Whitey on the Moon" was well-received. And I'm glad, since I bought this guy's stuff on iTunes and they have another two readings/songs of his to listen to before we move on to some Nikki Giovanni and The Last Poets, topped off by a couple Common/Kanye collabs w/ the aforementioned Scott-Heron and Poets.
Tomorrow's report card pickup/parent-conference day. More broken promises to receive, more parents to meet (kind of a neutral experience) and hopefully more smiles and/or changed-behavior. But I also remember that the last time we had one of these days was my first official date with Jennie. My next date with her is in two weeks and a day. I miss her.
The Bulls are winning. Which means that they'll get at least a seventh-place spot in the Eastern Conference Playoffs. Not bad for a team that desperately needs a star player. I thought I had a chance to go to the game tonight (which, by the way is against the lowly Toronto Raptors, the Chicago Blackhawks of the NBA) but my friend decided to take his Cubbies loving wife instead. O well, she's pregnant. What can I say?
The White Sox are one game behind the Red Sox for the best record in baseball, having won ten of their last eleven games. The Yanks stank. I think this will be another good year for baseball.