I’m not writing every day this year, but after two days of school, it’s time to write something. I’ve worked at North High for 18 years and unless my memory is fading, Tommy Hua has been there. Even if he hasn’t been there, in my mind he has, so that’s all that matters here.
I’ve taught his kids, his cousins, his nieces and nephews–I’ve seen a lot of Hua kids over the years.
Tommy is our custodian, and one of the reasons North High can be okay, is that the teachers and custodial staff (and staff, in general) tend to get along. I brought some items to school over the summer, didn’t have a way to check out my keys, so Tommy and I loaded them up on his cart, drove out to my room, and took a few minutes and complained about things people at schools complain about, and unloaded my stuff.
Tommy has this thing he does with me, though, and he’s been doing it for about five years now. Since I am six-foot-ten and he is maybe five-foot-six (on a good day), every time he saw me on campus he would greet me with a “Big T.” Is wasn’t some frat-boy salutation, complete with handshake or high-five–it was just a matter-of-fact “Big T.” The deal he wanted was for me to call him “Little T,” which I didn’t want to do because, well, I’m tall and he’s not.
For the last two years, though, I haven’t cared. He sees me, calls me “Big T,” and I don’t miss a beat in calling him “Little T,” which makes him laugh every time. In turn, I laugh because he gets such a kick out of being “Little T.”
Is that so hard, people? Big T and Little T–working on a campus near you (maybe).
And now, a song written by Satan.