i immediately reengaged tyrone. ou are on the right track, nothing did eventually hustle in harlem but he was not originally from harlem. a good guess though. damn ms. p. i am stumped. i cannot call it. tyrone shakes his head. he was called detroit red for his reddish-brown hair.i would have never guessed that says tyrone. well, now you know. that is how you learn. i reassured him. tyrone's interest in the lesson seem to corral most of the class. he loves black history and nature to let me know. i like learning stuff like this. he says driving it on a sheet of paper. he nods his head and shoots me a friendly slightly flirty smile. his skin is the color of blackstrap molasses. and he has porcelain white teeth that shone like brand-new piano keys. another student is determined to be a pain in my butt today. hell-bent on being the bane of my existence. he gets out of his seat and i asked him to please take a seat. ms. p., i don't care about no malcom x. what did he ever do for me? this boy makes my blood rice good i wan