For part of my bus to work, I’m usually on the same bus with a big gaggle of students from a nearby junior high. I haven’t tried talking to them, but I’ve gotten to know them a little from exposure – their energy, their conversations, their sasses back and forth through the bus full of in-jokes. Like any tweens, they’re all full of passion and a crusading, make-the-world-better spirit – but also, like any tweens, they’re a little thin on context.
This morning, as we were passing a wall on our regular route, one of the girls stopped mid-sentence when she saw some wheat-pasted posters covering it. “That’s it,” she announced. “I’m gonna tear that wall down.”
“Whuh?” said a kid towards the back.
“I’m gonna tear that wall down.”
“Whuh? How come?”
“It’s got Trump posters on it.”
The boy turned to look, then snickered. “….It’s calling him a pendejo.”
“….Don’t you know what pendejo means?”
“What?” The boy told her something quietly, and she blinked. “….Oh.” And she quietly sat down.