tagging

When I taught at an alternative jr high school on the west side of Salt Lake City, I was exposed to all of the current urban vernacular. Most of my students were straight out of jail, and all were gang members. I was in a one room school-house with 13 convicted criminals. By myself. My only instructions from the principal (who worked at the alternative high school downtown) were this: "if a gang fight breaks out, or if gang members show up with weapons, DO NOT call 911...we don't need the bad press."

We all had bus passes, and I was crazy enough to take the criminals on frequent field trips. By myself. They always managed to steal things from the library (think staplers and millions of mini pencils). On our weekly escapades I picked up on what I thought was the latest gangster lingo. I felt so hip. One day while riding in the car with my then boyfriend, I said "so, do you want to hear the latest word on the street for 'cops'?" "Sure", he responded very unenthusiastically. "Pigs", I replied as if I had unveiled some super secret code. He started laughing so hard that he had to pull over so we wouldn't crash. I felt really dumb. He relayed the story to any person we came in contact with for the next few days, and every time hysterical laughter ensued. The kind that causes people to double over and cry. I had no idea that word had been around for-ev-er. Anyway...the word back then for graffiti (my students had never heard that word) was "tagging". They always pointed out their "artwork" as we marauded around town.

Now I have two little criminals. Max and Ian have determined to deface every surface in our home and surrounding property with their own personal brand of "tagging". I am not kidding when I say that every surface in our home is covered in letters and scribbles. Walls, doors, floors, furniture, windows, cabinets, appliances, counter tops...even our patio and fence. J-P and I have spent most of the week cleaning, and they have spent most of the week strapped in time out. No matter where we hide the crayons, they always seem to find them. Sometimes they find an old crayon in the backyard or under a couch cushion and go to work. They can deface an entire room in the amount of time it takes for us to use the bathroom or change Ava's diaper.