ssr

ssr means sustained silent reading. but you already know that because it’s what you’re doing right now. it’s what we do for 30 minutes before p.e. starts every day. mr. thomas tells us “find a spot, and no talking!” and we all spread out. i climb to the top of the bleachers which are retracted and sit under the drone of the fluorescent lights and breathe quietly to myself. mr. thomas is one of the better ones. he doesn’t say what we have to read like some of the teachers do. today he’s scanning a copy of sports illustrated. most of the other guys have mags too. car mags, rock mags and no doubt one or two have a copy of penthouse or playboy concealed beneath one of their “cover” mags. i’m reading a copy of mad today. if i stretch it, i might be able to make it last all week. i’ll literally read it from cover to cover including all the copyright b.s. and the address and everybody's name. i especially like the little cartoons they put in the margins. a lot of people don’t even notice them. right now i’m reading one of those bits where they take a song and write new words to it. i don’t always know the songs, but i know this one. it’s the Christmas song “we three kings” it’s got a cartoon of these guys drinking in a car. the lyrics go “we three clods from omaha are spending Christmas eve in a car. driving, drinking, glasses clinking, who needs a lousy bar?” i’m trying not to laugh because that would disrupt he first “s” in the ssr. but it’s great. i can hear the voices of these guys singing in my head. “ohh...drink to charlie drink to paul drink to friends we can't recall. swerving, speeding signs unheeding drink to anything at all” ok, that last line didn’t quite work, but it’s still funny. i’m smiling now as i look around like i’ve got this little secret. way better than the playboy and penthouse guys. second verse - - - “we three clods are feeling no pain. drunk as skunks with booze on the brain. senses losing 'til we're cruising into a wrong way lane” hahaha. that’s funny. “ohh...drink to melvin, drink to fred. drink to those two trucks ahead. headlights flashing screeching, crashing drink till they pronounce us dead” again that last line. maybe if he said “drink til they say we’re dead” it doesn’t matter though because i’m busting a gut now. hahaha! at which point mr. thomas looks up from his s.i. and yells “brown!” which means i’ll be running an extra lap today. totally worth it...