It don’t get better, my English teacher said. She got fired and dragged out of the classroom like a dead mascot. Yesterday, my English teacher said Rick Scott is a bully, a homophobe, a twat, a turd, a turtledove, a total FCK who eats baby turtles because he’s a hater and money grubber with grubby fingernails. I swear. She said Alex Sink is better than the kitchen sink because she knows what it’s like to fight for gender equality in a male-deranged world. No, she said, Alex Sink is not man enough to be governor of Florida. She’s woman enough which is more than I can say for most men. Ma thinks my English teacher must be mentally challenged or just stupid or full of gas or inhaling gas fumes at Shell or BP. Maybe, ma says, she’s a total dork and full of crap. I tell ma my English teacher is like Annie Lennox–curious and bright, tall and bird like, but really fat. My English teacher leans forward when she speaks and she looks as if she’s about the launch into another dimension–an alternate twilight zone. But I think my teacher just leans forward cause she’s top heavy. When she speaks, I listen to her even though I don’t understand everything she says. When the principal came in to remove my teacher from the classroom, he tugged on my teacher’s teacher-sweater. He tugged her out of the room with his grubby hands on her. I thought I’d come to her emotional rescue while the man-world dragged her into his bat cave. Before she left the room, she turned toward us, leaning, and raised her flabby bat wing-arms and hollered: Fight, Almost Dorothy. It don’t get no better unless you make it so. Ma says I shouldn’t bullshit and that I don’t know how to sew. I tell her I’ll sew her hole shut if she doesn’t shut up. Needless to say, she says. Needless to say. Viva la English Teacher! Viva la revolution!