The classroom groaned. Tyrell laid his face on the desk. “Deadass, I’m tired of talking about race, Mr. P. We had Spanish history month, the day Rosa Parks sat on that damn bus, MLK’s b-day, Black History Month, Malcolm X’s b-day. Like, shout-out to all them, power to the people and shit, but I’m tired of always talking about all that stuff, bro.”
