The first cup is free, but after that you have to pay.

I don't like most drinks. I don't drink coffee, tea, milk, diet sodas or anything that claims to be healthy. That leaves water, lemonade and Dr. Pepper. Oh glorious, glorious Dr. Pepper, how I love your caffeinated tangy sweetness and your perky aftertaste. You are the only real beverage I love.

So it's a bit odd that my room became the hub of coffee-addicted students. After the umpteenth time I yelled and kicked desks to wake up my first period, I was told that only coffee would keep them up. When my ex moved out he didn't take the coffee pot, so I brought it in the next day.

A month later, the coffee pot has consumed the identity of the room. All three classes have a self-appointed coffee maker who gets the water and starts the brew, and I keep a small bank next to the pot for donations so that every Saturday I can go to Vons and buy any specific coffee needs we may have for the week. The kids sometimes go through three pots per 95 minute class period. Occasionally they show up with mugs of their own and little cartons of milk.

I have been forced to make a treaty with the vast ant population that regularly marches up to the table to take inventory of my sugar stock. Initially, I had a container filled with sugar, but by the end of the first day the ants raised a flag over it and claimed it for their own in a fairly disgusting display of insect pride. I switched to Splenda packets, but they never give up hope. The still come by every now and then and sniff around, and occasionally get away with a little spilled non-dairy creamer. They share my distaste for the coffee itself, though.

Yes, I am caffeinating the youth of South Central. Most likely, I have hooked them on the liquid crack so they spend the rest of the day as wired little freaks searching for their next fix. But boy do they love coming to my class.