Ah, Progress, You Wear Many Hats

Basketball practice Saturday, the rising sun, that smell of wet asphalt, and someone has tagged one of the backboards. When I first began working in the 408, our school was tagged just about every weekend, huge scrawling things that often covered entire wings. As we regained control of our campus, made it a place where gang affiliation was unwelcome, and increasingly unsought, the tagging lessened, moving to the youth center next door. So it was a little sad to see the tag up there on the backboard, heavy sharpie marker on cheap flexiglass:

Thanx 4 da education!

Or maybe, in some strange way, not that sad.