The
The

The

And
And

And

Outraged
Outraged

Outraged

Little
Little

Little

winston
winston

winston

dont
 dont

dont

tag
 tag

tag

say
 say

say

lateral
lateral

lateral

wanna
wanna

wanna

🔥 | Latest

Say Anything...: Himb goomba. (He is here to bring joy, please skip this post if you want to say anything negative about his appearance)
Say Anything...: Himb goomba. (He is here to bring joy, please skip this post if you want to say anything negative about his appearance)

Himb goomba. (He is here to bring joy, please skip this post if you want to say anything negative about his appearance)

Say Anything...: minimusambus: homomilitant: if you say anything homophobic in June this truck comes out of nowhere and crushes you like that bus crushed Regina George it’s optimus pride
Say Anything...: minimusambus:

homomilitant:
if you say anything homophobic in June this truck comes out of nowhere and crushes you like that bus crushed Regina George 
it’s optimus pride

minimusambus: homomilitant: if you say anything homophobic in June this truck comes out of nowhere and crushes you like that bus crushed...

Say Anything...: homomilitant: if you say anything homophobic in June this truck comes out of nowhere and crushes you like that bus crushed Regina George
Say Anything...: homomilitant:
if you say anything homophobic in June this truck comes out of nowhere and crushes you like that bus crushed Regina George

homomilitant: if you say anything homophobic in June this truck comes out of nowhere and crushes you like that bus crushed Regina George

Say Anything...: Himb goomba. (He is here to bring joy, please skip this post if you want to say anything negative about his appearance)
Say Anything...: Himb goomba. (He is here to bring joy, please skip this post if you want to say anything negative about his appearance)

Himb goomba. (He is here to bring joy, please skip this post if you want to say anything negative about his appearance)

Say Anything...: clover11-10: breezeinmonochromenight: star-linedsoul: razzleberryjam: ironwoman359: chaos-in-the-making: smugkoalas: allthefandomss: that-catholic-shinobi: gahdamnpunk: American Girl stories were the best tbh Dude, read the books, she and her mom freed themselves in Book 1. We don’t disrespect American Girl in this house Don’t you dare disrespect Addy, or any of my girls for that matter. American Girl used to be legit. Good stories, good dolls, good movies. Felicity’s story was set in the beginnings of the American Revolution, and addressed the conflict that she faced when her loved ones were split between patriots and loyalists. It also covered the effects of animal abuse, and forgiving those who are unforgivable. Samantha’s stories centered around the growth of industrial America, women’s suffrage, child abuse, and corruption in places of power. Also, it emphasises how dramatically adoption into a caring family can turn a life around. Kit’s story is one of my favorites. Her family is hit hard by the Great Depression, and they begin taking in boarders and raise chickens to help make ends meet. Her books include themes of poverty, police brutality, homelessness, prejudice, and the importance of unity in difficult times. Molly’s father, a doctor, is drafted during the Second World War. Throughout her story, friends of hers suffer the loss of their husbands, sons, and brothers overseas. Her mother leaves the traditional housewife position and works full-time to help with the war effort. They also take in an English refugee child, who learns to open up after a life of traumatic experience. American Girl stories have always featured the very harsh realities of America through the years. But they’re always presented honestly, yet in ways that kids can understand. They just go to show that you don’t have to live in a perfect time to be a real American girl. Dont you fucking dare disrespect the American Girls in my house. ESPECIALLY Addy!! That was my first REAL contact with the horrors of slavery, as I read about her father being whipped and sold and her mother escaping with her to freedom, but also how freedom was still a struggle. A slave doll. Please. Read the books. Don’t forget Kirsten, the Swedish immigrant who had to deal with balancing her own culture and learning the english language and customs of her classmates, or Kaya (full name Kaya'aton'my, or She Who Arranges Rocks) , the brave but careless girl from the Nez Perce tribe, or Josefina, the Mexican girl learning to be a healer. And then there are the later dolls, that kids younger than me would have grown up with (I was just outgrowing American Girl as these came out), like Rebecca, the Jewish girl who dreams of becoming an actress in the budding film industry, or  Julie, who fights against her school’s gender policy surrounding sports in the 70s, or  Nanea, the Hawaiian girl whose father worked at Pearl Harbor. These books, these characters, are fantastic pictures into life for girls in America throughout the years, they pull no punches with the horrors that these girls had to face in their different time periods, and in many cases I learned more history from these series than social studies at school. And that’s without even mentioning the “girl of the year” series where characters are created in the modern world to help girls deal with issues like friend problems, moving, or bullying. We do NOT disrespect American Girl in this house. American Girl is probably going to be the only exposure young girls are going to get to history from a female perspective. This is actually kind of important considering that in history classes we dont really get that exposure. We dont hear about what women felt and endured during these time periods cause schools are too busy teaching us about what happened from the male perspective, which is not unimportant, but we need both. Girls need both. These books were such a crucial part of my childhood and shaped my love of history, which still ensures today. These books can be a young girl’s first lessons in diversity and cultural awareness (hopefully burying that insensitive “we’re all Americans” tripe) and looking at history from more perspectives than just that taught in school. They also are an example of how women have ALWAYS been part of history, which some people would rather us not believe. I think Kit and Kaya were the newest American Girls when I started “aging out” of the books, but hearing about some of these kinda makes me want to revisit them! I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you know what? Nah. OP (of the tweet thread) was either a actively trying to start shit or is just a huge fucking moron. Probably both. I’d like to point out that the company that makes American Girl dolls actually doesn’t skimp when doing their research and they don’t make the dolls with the intent to be offensive in any way: I loved American Girl growing up they’re great role models and history lessons so yeah let’s not cancel this for ignorant reasons
Say Anything...: clover11-10:

breezeinmonochromenight:

star-linedsoul:

razzleberryjam:

ironwoman359:

chaos-in-the-making:

smugkoalas:


allthefandomss:

that-catholic-shinobi:

gahdamnpunk:
American Girl stories were the best tbh

Dude, read the books, she and her mom freed themselves in Book 1. We don’t disrespect American Girl in this house 


Don’t you dare disrespect Addy, or any of my girls for that matter. American Girl used to be legit. Good stories, good dolls, good movies. 


Felicity’s story was set in the beginnings of the American Revolution, and addressed the conflict that she faced when her loved ones were split between patriots and loyalists. It also covered the effects of animal abuse, and forgiving those who are unforgivable. 
Samantha’s stories centered around the growth of industrial America, women’s suffrage, child abuse, and corruption in places of power. Also, it emphasises how dramatically adoption into a caring family can turn a life around. 
Kit’s story is one of my favorites. Her family is hit hard by the Great Depression, and they begin taking in boarders and raise chickens to help make ends meet. Her books include themes of poverty, police brutality, homelessness, prejudice, and the importance of unity in difficult times. 
Molly’s father, a doctor, is drafted during the Second World War. Throughout her story, friends of hers suffer the loss of their husbands, sons, and brothers overseas. Her mother leaves the traditional housewife position and works full-time to help with the war effort. They also take in an English refugee child, who learns to open up after a life of traumatic experience. 
American Girl stories have always featured the very harsh realities of America through the years. But they’re always presented honestly, yet in ways that kids can understand. They just go to show that you don’t have to live in a perfect time to be a real American girl. 


Dont you fucking dare disrespect the American Girls in my house. ESPECIALLY Addy!! That was my first REAL contact with the horrors of slavery, as I read about her father being whipped and sold and her mother escaping with her to freedom, but also how freedom was still a struggle.
A slave doll. Please. Read the books. 

Don’t forget Kirsten, the Swedish immigrant who had to deal with balancing her own culture and learning the english language and customs of her classmates, or Kaya (full name 

Kaya'aton'my, or She Who Arranges Rocks) , the brave but careless girl from the Nez Perce tribe, or Josefina, the Mexican girl learning to be a healer.
And then there are the later dolls, that kids younger than me would have grown up with (I was just outgrowing American Girl as these came out), like Rebecca, the Jewish girl who dreams of becoming an actress in the budding film industry, or 

Julie, who fights against her school’s gender policy surrounding sports in the 70s, or 

Nanea, the Hawaiian girl whose father worked at Pearl Harbor.
These books, these characters, are fantastic pictures into life for girls in America throughout the years, they pull no punches with the horrors that these girls had to face in their different time periods, and in many cases I learned more history from these series than social studies at school. And that’s without even mentioning the “girl of the year” series where characters are created in the modern world to help girls deal with issues like friend problems, moving, or bullying. We do NOT disrespect American Girl in this house.


American Girl is probably going to be the only exposure young girls are going to get to history from a female perspective. This is actually kind of important considering that in history classes we dont really get that exposure. We dont hear about what women felt and endured during these time periods cause schools are too busy teaching us about what happened from the male perspective, which is not unimportant, but we need both. Girls need both.



These books were such a crucial part of my childhood and shaped my love of history, which still ensures today. These books can be a young girl’s first  lessons in diversity and cultural awareness (hopefully burying that insensitive “we’re all Americans” tripe) and looking at history from more perspectives than just that taught in school. They also are an example of how women have ALWAYS been part of history, which some people would rather us not believe.
I think Kit and Kaya were the newest American Girls when I started “aging out” of the books, but hearing about some of these kinda makes me want to revisit them!

I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you know what? 
Nah.
OP (of the tweet thread) was either a actively trying to start shit or is just a huge fucking moron. Probably both.
I’d like to point out that the company that makes American Girl dolls actually doesn’t skimp when doing their research and they don’t make the dolls with the intent to be offensive in any way:





I loved American Girl growing up they’re great role models and history lessons so yeah let’s not cancel this for ignorant reasons

clover11-10: breezeinmonochromenight: star-linedsoul: razzleberryjam: ironwoman359: chaos-in-the-making: smugkoalas: allthefandom...

Say Anything...: justcatposts: don’t say anything, just reblog(via)
Say Anything...: justcatposts:

don’t say anything, just reblog(via)

justcatposts: don’t say anything, just reblog(via)

Say Anything...: babyanimalgifs:don’t say anything, just reblog.
Say Anything...: babyanimalgifs:don’t say anything, just reblog.

babyanimalgifs:don’t say anything, just reblog.

Say Anything...: bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
Say Anything...: bogleech:

lynati:

movemequotes:

Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem.
On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish.
And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school.
The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

…


I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it

bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“G...

Say Anything...: Best dog and you can’t say anything
Say Anything...: Best dog and you can’t say anything

Best dog and you can’t say anything

Say Anything...: sushinfood: justamerplwithabox: vivelafat: prokopetz: officialdeadparrot: grellholmes: elsajeni: gunslingerannie: justtkeepcalmm: dean-and-his-pie: fororchestra: musicalmelody: Fun Story: My director kept telling me and my tenor sax buddy to play softer. No matter what we did, it wasn’t soft enough for him. So getting frustrated, I told my buddy “Dont play this time. Just fake it”  Our Band Director then informed us we sounded perfect.  To my readers: “p” means quiet, “pp” means really quiet. I’ve never seen “pppp” before haha. On the contrast, “f” means loud, and “ffff” probably means so loud you go unconscious. I had ffff in a piece once and my conductor told me to play as loudly as physically possible without falling off my chair… Me and my trombone buddies had “ffff” and he sat next to me and played so hard that he fell out of his chair. The lengths we go for music. Okay yeah so I play the bass clarinet and the amount of air you have to move and the stiffness of the reed means it only has two settings and that is loud and louder, with an optional LOUDEST that includes a 50% probability of HORRIBLE CROAKING NOISE which is the bass equivalent of the ubiquitous clarinet shriek. One day, when I was in concert band in high school, we got a new piece handed out for the first time, and there was a strange little commotion back in the tuba section — whispering, and pointing at something in the music, and swatting at each other’s hands all shhh don’t call attention to it. And although they did attract the attention of basically everyone else in the band, they managed to avoid being noticed by the band director, who gave us a few minutes to look over our parts and then said, “All right, let’s run through it up to section A.” And here we are, cheerfully playing along, sounding reasonably competent — but everyone, when they have the attention to spare, is keeping an eye on the tuba players. They don’t come in for the first eight measures or so, and then when they do come in, what we see is: [stifled giggling] [reeeeeeally deep breath] [COLOSSAL FOGHORN NOISE] The entire band stops dead, in the cacophonous kind of way that a band stops when it hasn’t actually been cued to stop. The band director doesn’t even say anything, just looks straight back at the tubas and makes a helpless sort of why gesture. In unison, the tuba players defend themselves: “THERE WERE FOUR F’S.” FFFF is not really a rational dynamic marking for any instrument, but for the love of all that is holy why would you put it in a tuba part. This is the best band post  Everyone else go home Oh man, so I play trombone, and we got this piece called Florentiner Marsch by Julius Fucik, and we saw this which is 8 fortes. We were shocked until, that is 24 fortes who the fuck does that Who does that? This guy. Take a good look - that is the moustache of a man with nothing to lose. Julius IdontgivaFucik More like Julius Fuckit Pyrozod’s tags for this were too hilarious not to share
Say Anything...: sushinfood:

justamerplwithabox:

vivelafat:

prokopetz:

officialdeadparrot:

grellholmes:

elsajeni:

gunslingerannie:

justtkeepcalmm:

dean-and-his-pie:

fororchestra:

musicalmelody:

Fun Story: My director kept telling me and my tenor sax buddy to play softer. No matter what we did, it wasn’t soft enough for him. So getting frustrated, I told my buddy “Dont play this time. Just fake it” 
Our Band Director then informed us we sounded perfect. 

To my readers: “p” means quiet, “pp” means really quiet. I’ve never seen “pppp” before haha.
On the contrast, “f” means loud, and “ffff” probably means so loud you go unconscious.

I had ffff in a piece once and my conductor told me to play as loudly as physically possible without falling off my chair…

Me and my trombone buddies had “ffff” and he sat next to me and played so hard that he fell out of his chair.
The lengths we go for music.

Okay yeah so I play the bass clarinet and the amount of air you have to move and the stiffness of the reed means it only has two settings and that is loud and louder, with an optional LOUDEST that includes a 50% probability of HORRIBLE CROAKING NOISE which is the bass equivalent of the ubiquitous clarinet shriek.

One day, when I was in concert band in high school, we got a new piece handed out for the first time, and there was a strange little commotion back in the tuba section — whispering, and pointing at something in the music, and swatting at each other’s hands all shhh don’t call attention to it. And although they did attract the attention of basically everyone else in the band, they managed to avoid being noticed by the band director, who gave us a few minutes to look over our parts and then said, “All right, let’s run through it up to section A.”
And here we are, cheerfully playing along, sounding reasonably competent — but everyone, when they have the attention to spare, is keeping an eye on the tuba players. They don’t come in for the first eight measures or so, and then when they do come in, what we see is:
[stifled giggling]
[reeeeeeally deep breath]
[COLOSSAL FOGHORN NOISE]
The entire band stops dead, in the cacophonous kind of way that a band stops when it hasn’t actually been cued to stop. The band director doesn’t even say anything, just looks straight back at the tubas and makes a helpless sort of why gesture.
In unison, the tuba players defend themselves: “THERE WERE FOUR F’S.”
FFFF is not really a rational dynamic marking for any instrument, but for the love of all that is holy why would you put it in a tuba part.

This is the best band post 
Everyone else go home

Oh man, so I play trombone, and we got this piece called Florentiner Marsch by Julius Fucik, and we saw this

which is 8 fortes. We were shocked until,

that is 24 fortes who the fuck does that

Who does that?

This guy. Take a good look - that is the moustache of a man with nothing to lose.

Julius IdontgivaFucik

More like Julius Fuckit


Pyrozod’s tags for this were too hilarious not to share

sushinfood: justamerplwithabox: vivelafat: prokopetz: officialdeadparrot: grellholmes: elsajeni: gunslingerannie: justtkeepcalmm:...

Say Anything...: feniczoroark: shitty-car-mods-daily: Do I really have to say anything else? @randomnightlord
Say Anything...: feniczoroark:

shitty-car-mods-daily:

Do I really have to say anything else?


@randomnightlord

feniczoroark: shitty-car-mods-daily: Do I really have to say anything else? @randomnightlord

Say Anything...: awesomacious: Don’t say anything about your body that you wouldn’t say about your buddy’s body.
Say Anything...: awesomacious:

Don’t say anything about your body that you wouldn’t say about your buddy’s body.

awesomacious: Don’t say anything about your body that you wouldn’t say about your buddy’s body.

Say Anything...: awesomacious: Don’t say anything about your body that you wouldn’t say about your buddy’s body.
Say Anything...: awesomacious:

Don’t say anything about your body that you wouldn’t say about your buddy’s body.

awesomacious: Don’t say anything about your body that you wouldn’t say about your buddy’s body.

Say Anything...: lessonsinsilence: lordrachaelmarissa: bando–grand-scamyon: suitepetite: nico-incognito: nerdyblackfangirl: asinine-sunshine: GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, the American educational system is trash. I applaud this child’s parents for giving her a voice and standing up against bias authority. (Can someone caption this?) Classroom full of mostly black and brown students: Black student: [unintelligible—and then]  …and then throwing everything away beneath it because it doesn’t pertain to you. I’m sorry — White teacher: —you know what, I’m sorry -I’m sorry… Black student: —No, no, no…I let you talk -I let you talk, you’re gonna let me talk. [Other students gasps] White student: Go ahead. Finish. Black student: I’m sorry that this is the way that it is. You’re right, it is fucked up. But white people control everything…and that’s not fair. And when anybody, any other minority tries to say anything about it or change it, we’re complaining or we’re ungrateful or all this other stuff because we still have this or that. But then you say something about ‘Oh, I don’t want—there’s too many Latinos and there’s too many—’ White teacher: I didn’t say that— [Various students disagree] White teacher: I said I want to control the border! Black student: You said you don’t want this to turn into a Latin country because there’ll be too many  White teacher: I did not say that. [Various students disagree] Student 2: You said you want to preserve the American culture. Black student: There is no American culture. American culture is EVERYTHING. [Various students agree] Random: Mayonnaise! [Students laugh] Black student: And because you are white and so closed-minded, you refuse to accept that, you refuse to accept— White teacher: Don’t tell me I’m closed-minded— Black student: Everything you’ve said to me is closed-minded. White teacher: Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m closed-minded. Black student: You don’t need to agree—I -I’ve had conversations with people that don’t agree with me, but if they at least listen and try to accept—you’re not accepting the truth. White teacher: Why do I have to accept what you think is right? Black student: You need to accept the truth! Not what I think is right, what is actually happening right— White teacher: Well, let me tell you what I think. You said white people have been in control of everything….who is the president of the United States right now?! Students: A black man! *Various sounds of incredulity* Black student: WITH A WHITE CONGRESS! WITH A WHITE SENATE! WITH WHITE EVERYTHING ELSE! HE DOESN’T HAVE THE CONTROL OF EVERYTHING! Random: GO OFF  Other Random: GO OFF– *The class is in an uproar* Random student: YOU ARE SO PRIVILEGED THAT YOU JUST DON’T SEE IT! White teacher: Do we have to yell?! Black student: Yes, because I’m mad. Reblogging for the captioning. Thanks! YES, BECAUSE I’M MAD. This gives me hope. I’m 22. I’m not that old, but I’m assuming I’m older than these students in the video. To see this young intelligent woman school her teacher on white privilege and the affects of white supremacy gives me hope. They are young and using their voice! This is gives me hope ya’ll.  this👏student👏deserves👏an👏award👏for👏putting👏up👏with👏that👏teacher👏
Say Anything...: lessonsinsilence:

lordrachaelmarissa:

bando–grand-scamyon:

suitepetite:

nico-incognito:

nerdyblackfangirl:

asinine-sunshine:

GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, the American educational system is trash. I applaud this child’s parents for giving her a voice and standing up against bias authority.

(Can someone caption this?)

Classroom full of mostly black and brown students:
Black student: [unintelligible—and then]  …and then throwing everything away beneath it because it doesn’t pertain to you. I’m sorry —
White teacher: —you know what, I’m sorry -I’m sorry…
Black student: —No, no, no…I let you talk -I let you talk, you’re gonna let me talk.
[Other students gasps]
White student: Go ahead. Finish.
Black student: I’m sorry that this is the way that it is. You’re right, it is fucked up. But white people control everything…and that’s not fair. And when anybody, any other minority tries to say anything about it or change it, we’re complaining or we’re ungrateful or all this other stuff because we still have this or that. But then you say something about ‘Oh, I don’t want—there’s too many Latinos and there’s too many—’
White teacher: I didn’t say that—
[Various students disagree]
White teacher: I said I want to control the border!
Black student: You said you don’t want this to turn into a Latin country because there’ll be too many 
White teacher: I did not say that.
[Various students disagree]
Student 2: You said you want to preserve the American culture.
Black student: There is no American culture. American culture is EVERYTHING.
[Various students agree]
Random: Mayonnaise!
[Students laugh]
Black student: And because you are white and so closed-minded, you refuse to accept that, you refuse to accept—
White teacher: Don’t tell me I’m closed-minded—
Black student: Everything you’ve said to me is closed-minded.
White teacher: Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m closed-minded.
Black student: You don’t need to agree—I -I’ve had conversations with people that don’t agree with me, but if they at least listen and try to accept—you’re not accepting the truth.
White teacher: Why do I have to accept what you think is right?
Black student: You need to accept the truth! Not what I think is right, what is actually happening right—
White teacher: Well, let me tell you what I think. You said white people have been in control of everything….who is the president of the United States right now?!
Students: A black man!
*Various sounds of incredulity*
Black student: WITH A WHITE CONGRESS! WITH A WHITE SENATE! WITH WHITE EVERYTHING ELSE! HE DOESN’T HAVE THE CONTROL OF EVERYTHING!
Random: GO OFF 
Other Random: GO OFF–
*The class is in an uproar*
Random student: YOU ARE SO PRIVILEGED THAT YOU JUST DON’T SEE IT!
White teacher: Do we have to yell?!
Black student: Yes, because I’m mad.


Reblogging for the captioning. Thanks!


YES, BECAUSE I’M MAD.

This gives me hope. I’m 22. I’m not that old, but I’m assuming I’m older than these students in the video. To see this young intelligent woman school her teacher on white privilege and the affects of white supremacy gives me hope. They are young and using their voice! This is gives me hope ya’ll. 


this👏student👏deserves👏an👏award👏for👏putting👏up👏with👏that👏teacher👏

lessonsinsilence: lordrachaelmarissa: bando–grand-scamyon: suitepetite: nico-incognito: nerdyblackfangirl: asinine-sunshine: GO 👏...

Say Anything...: Cood Caerings Colaring in the lines: Colors make Sense: No white Spaces: CEZAN EI ashabl Markers C) lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy …
Say Anything...: Cood Caerings
 Colaring
 in the
 lines:
 Colors
 make
 Sense:
 No white
 Spaces:
 CEZAN
 EI
 ashabl
 Markers
 C)
lynati:
movemequotes:

Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem.
On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish.
And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school.
The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

…

lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” though...