I want you to picture Josh. He's 6' 1" of hip-hop culture personified. Lanky, corn rows, most of his wardrobe consists of Boondocks tshirts. His research paper is on Jay-Z. He's a funny kid, but I wish to God he'd stop dropping the n-word all the time. (Note: It has been explained to me that "n***-ah" is different than "n***-er", but I'm not buying or tolerating it).
Detention in my room has proven not to be all that effective as a punishment because there are always kids that come to work, but they usually wind up goofing around, so the mood was pretty light when Josh showed up to serve his detention and said "Man, Mister G's black!"
I was helping a kid write an essay and didn't think I heard right, and neither did anyone else. We had to stop working while a couple of kids said "Josh, what the hell did you say?!"
"Mister G's black. He listens to all that old soul music, he sings and dances a little bit, and there's a wrapper from Popeye's fried chicken in the garbage. He black! Like he got a reverse tan or something."
That's praise, I think.
The chicken container wasn't mine, but I do love me some fried chicken!