My letter has not been published. Either they haven’t read it or they don’t want to post it. Maybe they are afraid that people wouldn’t like it. I don’t know how I feel about that. Paper wait.
By the way, I never look at my Facebook account, so you shouldn’t look at it. The last time I was on was over a year ago. I checked my email (I don’t do that very often either) and an there an awful lot of friend requests. I’m sorry. If you want to talk to me, call me.
I’d like to thank Sam for sending a donation to my school. It was a whole lot of something. That was very nice.
I had this weird, violent moment that was a lot of fun the other day. I fell off my seat on the bus and landed on the floor below it and no one would let me stand back up. I couldn’t stop laughing. They threw my stuff at me. That was great. My bus ride is fun.
I just remembered that at Antietam they have a giant bullet made of stone. It’s like the size of my upper body. That’s a really big bullet. I was thinking about bus trips, and my old school, and our trip to Antietam. It too was a lot of fun. I think people threw stuff at me there too.
Also, at my current school, after Thanksgiving there will be this bizarre thing called “Hawk Sweeps” where, after the late bell, all the teachers close and lock their doors, and if you don’t have a pass, a group of adults will be searching the hallways and they will round everyone up and take them to the office and, I don’t know…stab them? I’m probably going to be caught in one of these. I am sometimes late to class. I forget whether it’s A day or B day, which determines which classes you have, so I’m always going to the wrong class and they are on opposite sides of the building. If you are reading this and you are one of my teachers, or some other adult at my school, please don’t stab me, OK? Deal? That’s not fun violence. Maybe, if it’s not hard, you can throw something at me.
At my glass blowing class I’ve made a paper weight. It’s kind of ugly. The colors are really dull. Being in a glass blowing class is a lot of fun though. I did nearly burn my hand off the other day, but that’s OK. I still have my hand. The teachers are really nice. I feel respected, not like how I feel about my principle at school. I take this class at the DC Glassworks, which is in an industrial park. I’ve taken lots of art classes where the students are adults and kids. And the class is always really fun. I wonder why. Maybe, at my school, no one has any respect for anyone else. I learn better when I feel respected.
This winter I will teach my mother how to throw a pot. Not at someone! She already knows how to do that. I am going to show my mother how to use a pottery wheel without hurting someone, including herself. Or her pot. I’m not going to yell at my mother. This is so she doesn’t just hate me and resist everything I tell her to do because then we would get nowhere.
Thank you Jamie and Marsha for writing to me. It makes me feel good that people read my blog. When I look at the “stats” for my blog and I see that people have been reading it I feel excited. I feel that I’m influencing people about how they treat children.
So, I’m sorry. I never write back. But I really like it when you write me. Uncle Tommy, Gabe, Jeff, Diana and people I don’t really know who have written me really good, long letters, I thought about what you said to me and I felt respected even when you were arguing with me. Thanks! And that’s it!