I don’t know where you live, I told him.
“Park Ridge. You come.”
O.K., I’ll see. What’s for dinner? I asked.
“Taco Bell. You like Taco Bell?”
No, I told him.
“You're funny, Mr. K.”
One of his classmates approached me
somewhat guardedly, requesting privacy from the other children and their aides in the
classroom. “Can we talk, Mr. K?” he asked, gently steering me away from his
desk. He put his arm around me and had me bend low so he could whisper in my
ear.
What’s wrong? I asked. How can I help?“Can I have some chocolate milk?”
