Priorities

Newton ran up to me as I walked between classrooms today.  “Mr. Demy sent me home because I have colored clothes,” he sighed.  I excused him and invited him to come to the house and copy my notes.  Ten minutes into class I saw him sprint past the window and duck inside.  Mr. Demy revved his motorbike outisde and Newton lept behind the door with a grin.  I was supposed to throw him out, but instead I smirked and tried not to laugh as I continued my lesson.  Mr. Demy roared past the window and I waved Newton to his seat.

Priorities, people.  Priorities.