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Proof’s Hammer
January 9, 2010 in 299 Words, Business, Class Work, Education, Fiction, Flash Fiction, language, Philosophy, School, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: language, Philosophy, School, Threat, Work | by davidbdale | 9 comments
Black and White each had doubts that the other existed, but for White the question had consequences. Read the rest of this entry »
Rosa Parks Gives Up Her Seat on the Bus
February 15, 2008 in 299 Words, Fiction, Flash Fiction, novels, Politics, Race, Rosa Parks, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Hate, language, Politics, Race, School, Speech | by davidbdale | 7 comments
Yes, we understood it was a provocative topic. That’s why we chose it. To provoke thought. Next.
No, the question is not racist. It’s a speculation about race. Let’s be clear about that. Next.
Well, because it’s frankly ridiculous to base admissions entirely on test scores. Read the rest of this entry »
Secret School
November 25, 2007 in 299 Words, Education, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, School, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Children, Parent, Precocious, School, Subversive | by davidbdale | 9 comments
Our neighborhood had leafy lanes and wide sidewalks and neighbors—not just people who lived next door—and no kindergarten. There weren’t enough five- and six-year-olds together to fill a classroom; fifth and sixth grades had been combined and third was on the cut list. Read the rest of this entry »
Bridge Toll
September 24, 2007 in 299 Words, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, language, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Car, Father, Regret, School, Son | by davidbdale | 7 comments
My son’s a nice enough kid, I suppose, flaky as all get-out, but a hard worker when he sets his mind to something, which is the problem. I offered him a way into the business, but he never cracked the binder. Plus, he qualified for military officer training, but he went kamikaze on his interview. Read the rest of this entry »
Little Worm
September 8, 2007 in 299 Words, Death, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Short stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Child, Daughter, Dialog, Father, Girl, Poetry, Precocious, School | by davidbdale | 14 comments
My daughter Magda is four years old and a frightening specimen. I’m running out of preschools that will take her. “We can’t tell when she’s kidding,” they tell me, “It scares us.” I know: you need an example. Read the rest of this entry »
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