E. R. Smith 2018

A movement is spreading that’s allowing teachers a platform to discuss the oldest profession, teaching. Teachers have said nothing, or have been ignored, as torrents of disrespect have ravaged their calling for decades.  Recent remarks have added a new consideration for an already hefty checklist of things to do.  Bearing arms.  Teachers who frequently stretch pay checks to support the schools that house their students have had enough.  Finally, thank you, because now I’m sure it’s not just me and my downtrodden circle.  Here’s my addition to the move, to ask our world what educators regardless of demographic would like to be equipped, supplied, and outfitted with.


Smaller Class Size

Funding for STEM

Funding for Class Supplies

Funding for Field Trips

Funding for After school Programs

Funding regardless of demographic

Respect for our profession

Pass it ON…


Tea and Crackers Interrogation Method

E. R. Smith 2018

Tea and crackers my mother’s secret weapon to weaken our defenses.  We sipped Lipton,  and let loose a mouthful, fears, worried tears, confessions.  We sat in Big Chair in mom’s room.  Big Chair was mom’s ally; worn soft perfection.  Sit and spill.  As soon as she came in from school; mom called, ‘Lizzy you want tea?’  Mom knew something, but what?  She’d been careful to park her backpack in her bedroom chair, “as a habit so I don’t forget anything for school” , she told mom.  Oh…she wondered if her mom would check her backpack?  No, maybe not.  Hope Ms. Bee wasn’t over gossiping and confusing everyone’s business with her own.

Mom brought the tea and crackers straight into her room.  She didn’t ask if I wanted to follow her.  Everything is fine, follow, breathe, sit in Big.  “Did you hear that girl with the blond streaks is pregnant?  ‘Yep, Ms. Bee. ‘ “No, Ma I  didn’t know.”  ‘Wasn’t she your friend?’  “In elementary ma, that was years ago.”  Mom moves on.  How’d you do in school today?  I froze a bit.  “It was good.”  Did mom get a call from school?  The phone rings.  Joey picks it up, “Mom it’s for you.”  I sip tea, and press lips closed to swallow.  Snuggling in Big…  Practice keeping your own counsel, scolds my teen brain.  I can hear silly giggles; mom’s talking to Titi June.  Well, it won’t be long now. More probing after chats done.  I nibble a cracker and decide to fess up…

I tell you mom and her tea…nothing gets past them.


Creepy Caper Served Cold

©2017 E. R. Smith ,

Slinky sliding, floor warm sticky.  Straight to my goal, aimed   Sounds of rocks on gravel almost deafening.  Room is dark, shadowy like Scooby Doo, when crew enters a place they have no business.  Fan on High, ’cause it’s way too hot.  Crawl sliding, middle of  bedroom behind fan; I stop.  Noise really is loud.  Prepare weapons.  Study victims.  Migdalia, her side, snoring like she’s fighting to breathe, but losing.  Next bed, Mary, mouth open like she’s yelling at ‘Dalia.  Toss my weapons into air.  About a thousand tiny pieces of paper land on them from overhead.  Watch them wake screaming, swatting.  They think insects.  I smile.  Every time they break something  in my room, I feel like swatting them.  Big sister revenge takes planning, maybe losing a night’s sleep; totally worth it.  We are way better at appropriate punishment than parents.  


A Bike Path Away

©2017 E. R. Smith

Focused stare in cycling class; hoping this bike path leads me to missing waistline.


Lil Mary Cooks

Girls with Barbies:  courtesy of photographer Camilo Jose Vergara

©2017 E. R. Smith

Cooking is so much fun when you don’t have much food in your home. It’s like Christmas every time, ’cause it doesn’t happen every day.  Today we are gonna make baked potatoes with cheese, salad, and barbecue chicken thighs.  Mr. Martinez, the butcher, winked at mom, this is why we’ll have enough chicken ’til tomorrow.  This is a once a month feast, at least mom calls it that.  The first of the month is when she buys all of the food, she always tries to get a bit extra for feast day.  The rest of the month she reminds of the weeks ahead, so we won’t gobble everything up.  Feeding four kids is hard, especially by yourself.  I see mom holding her head in her room sometimes.  Mom’s at the laundromat right now, so I’ll help with the cooking.

Mommy taught me to cook rice when I was ten, I’ve watched her mix mysteries in all of our pots since then.  Now Mary and Dalia want me to show them.  Since I did promise. These guys are so excited. Mary turns on the oven. Joey just watches from the living room with a Superman comic in his hands.  I’m just waiting to eat, his monthly comment.  He loves cooking though, just not with the kids; only with mom. The kitchen’s noisy like the chickens are alive, gosh my sisters squeal a lot!  We finished choppin’ salad.  Dalia and Mary peeled potatoes.  I had to touch the meat ’cause I’m oldest; and no one else would.  I put on the herbs and spices like mom showed me after cleaning it with vinegar.  Vinegar is one strong smell.  All ready to put in the oven. I walk over to pack the salad in the fridge.  I see Mary with the box of matches, Dalia marching close behind her.  Putting away the salad bowl, I remind them to be careful with the oven.  It’s ok I already turned it on, Mary says.

You know those times you hear things from a distance but don’t really listen.  Happens a lot when I’m with my sisters all day.  I come back to the kitchen to find Mary’s bottom in the air as she reaches with a lit match into the oven. Dalia’s by the sink stubbornly holding the pan of thighs; waiting her turn.  Time did that thing where you want it to move backward, so it purposely moves faster.  Pop!…, hot air and smoke whooshed over us,  I fell/grabbed Mary by her feet out of the oven.  Tears in my eyes, Dalia’s mouth is screaming but I can’t hear her.  Joey is behind me.  Please don’t be dead, my mind yells as I peek down at Mary’s face.  She looks odd, quiet, but she’s breathing.  Joey had already jumped over me and turned off the stove and opened the window.  Dalia’s trying to hand me a wash cloth.  I take it and wipe Mary’s face, praying at the same time to the Virgen Mary.  Wow, Joeys says amazed, look at her face!  Mary’s face looked kinda new, then I realized her eye brows were gone;  and her hair was singed away on the sides.  Dalia tells Mary about her eyebrows, then Mary finally cries.  I am just glad she’s breathing.  What happened? She turned on the oven too soon, Joey explains shaking his head like an old man.  You could’ve killed us, luckily you just killed your face hair.  Thanks Joe, great!  Mary’s crying harder, so I take her to the bathroom and leave him in charge of the kitchen.  Trust, no one besides mom will get past him into that kitchen.  I explain to Mary her hair will grow back soon,  you’re still pretty and you don’t have scars.

I hear the key turn in the lock, want to run somewhere and hold my head.  Can’t though, I’m eldest.  Guess I’ll show mom Mary’s cooked face and then start explaining from there.



One-Liner Wednesday: Sisterhood

©2017 E. R. Smith

Blood is richer, interconnected cells; building blocks of powerful sisterhood.


Eleven Doubting Destiny

Photography from Vintage Everyday South Bronx 1970

Feeling the change and small bills in my pocket, what can I  buy for dinner?  My little brother walks beside.  I can tell he’s watching me think.  Hmmm, I could check the Cuchifritos on Brook Avenue, but it’s way too cold to walk.  How do I get enough food for everybody with $9.45?  Sometimes I wonder why mom thinks I know what to do?  I so don’t. I wish she’d left me home with my sick little sisters and figured this out for herself.

I take a deep breathe and feel bad, mom’s nose was running too.  She has a fever.  I see Kentucky Fried Chicken ahead, maybe there?  I hate it there though, scary men like to hang out at tables. They smell like the garbage behind my building.  They stare.  My brother holds my hand as we cross the street.  Joey’s finger’s are freezing!  Shit, have no choice.  Wonder if I will ever have a choice?  Ms. Calabrese talked about destiny, a new vocabulary word.  I think for me, it will stay a vocabulary word.

©2017 E. R. Smith


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