My Halloween

How was my Halloween? Fine, thanks for asking.

I woke to find Jessica in the kitchen dressed as a gypsy. No wait, not a gypsy: a fortuneteller. As I learned a couple of years ago, gypsy is an offensive term used to refer to the Romas, an ethnic group. After reeducating Shea and I on why not to use this term, Jessica left to catch her train. Shortly thereafter, Amber emerged from her room wearing a similar get-up to Jessica. Referring to herself as a gypsy, Shea began to repeat the information Jessica had fed him moments earlier. Amber found this to be ridiculous, however. She justified her costume by explaining that being a gypsy is like a type of job, so dressing like one is no less acceptable than if she were to dress as a teacher. Not convinced, Shea asked, "What type of job do gypsies do?" Amber retorted, "Stealing money."

I wasn't in the classroom. I had an in-service day, so while my students tortured a substitute, I enjoyed a break. I wore my pumpkin hat for newborns for holiday spirit as I made sure everything was in order for the sub in the morning. Several of my students saw me and loved it. I had figured that the "no hats" dress policy was not applicable on Halloween, but apparently throughout the day, students had their costume hats confiscated, some of whom complained, "But Mr. [Kevin] is wearing a hat!" Knowing that I was scheduled to be out of the classroom, the assistant principal thought it would be funny to tell the students that I had been sent home for breaking the dress code. When the students realized I was really absent later on, the rumor became so widespread that a couple of the teachers asked me if it was true at the faculty meeting after school. That's a hoot.

By the time the trick-or-treaters rolled around, I was pretty worn out. My pumpkin, a gravedigger surrounded by hearts, my subtle ode to necrophilia, went largely unnoticed by the greedy kids. I thought I'd be eager to interact with the cute children, but I'm discovering that I'm pretty disillusioned by youth due to my current profession. Shea projected Fantasia on the garage; surprisingly, there's a lot of animated nudity for a Disney film. Instead of passing out candy, I assumed the role of censor, jumping in front of illustrated breasts and butts to protect the innocence of the begging children. Then again, when the nine-year-olds are dressed like whores, it's hard to call them innocent.

By nine o'clock, I was already in bed. What a Halloween!

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