I agreed to help chaperon an after school trip to a Chicago fire game. This is always a bit of a risk because you never know when you will be back and you never know when one of your students might decide to crack open a beer and the next thing you know you are explaining why you couldn't prevent a group of teenagers from embarrassing the school.
I hate to think negatively, and I never show this to the students, but that stress never goes away.
Went with a group of ten Mexican kids and one white girl, a girlfriend. Naturally the young teenage couple decided to make out in back, and I was terrified that a baby would be on my conscience so I ended up sitting on the back of the us, which really pissed of the lovebirds.
The boys were all fired up and wanted to talk about everything and everybody. Students and teachers, and you always want to listen to what they think. But it is always awkward being a part of something that you know you do not belong to.
The game went very well, although there was a brief moment of tension when my kids spotted some Latin Saints and there was a barrage of shit talking and signs flashed. But it was dollar hot dog night so no one really felt like fighting. Listening to the kids scream "culero" at the referee and laugh at everything.
I did not end up getting back to my apartment until well after midnight, but it was worth it. To watch them almost silent on the bus ride home, stoically looking out the window. Young gang bangers and construction workers, tough kids with tough jokes, the sons of immigrants, the mixing languages, it shows that you are living American history, the same as the teachers of Italian and Irish immigrants before.