During the years of 1995-2008 I fought the law (Secondary School Administrators) and the law won.
I taught with my heart and not my head. I gave my all but did not know this was not allowed.
I was nominated Teacher of the Year Twice. Yet lost it because I was teaching out of my area.
I left twice in the middle of the year, well three times because the Law was not doing its job.
This is a book I feel every new teacher or even a veteran should read. It is a tale all, no holds barred,
except changing the names, locations to protect from any law suits.
At first I labeled this “Teaching Black While White” because many districts I worked in were minority based or “At Risk.”
Now I must warn my readers; this is a male Caucasian teacher not realizing this game is ruled by the opposite sex.
Though most of my enemies were male Principals. I will be able to give you some subtle guides as to what to do
and what not to do at any school. This book is dedicated to students every where who are stereo typed as low achievers.
Also to teachers or educators who are thinking of giving up; don’t give them the satisfaction.
Stay in the game! Doc King Cole M.A. The Citadel B.A. College of Charleston OIF Veteran Author, Teacher, Medic

After many years of prayer and therapy I wish to use ancient philosophy to help others. We live at a time of tremendous change. The only constant in this life is change. This book is dedicated to the young the forgotten generation. Many may find this narrow door approach to life boring. Yet if you’re looking for a Peace of Mind you must begin to unplug. I will not try to convert you 2 my way of thinking but possibly a healthier method of musing. After years of using over the counter drugs to become a great writer, I almost lost my mind and my soul. I only pray this helps those of you who are seeking a mental freedom 2 this current revolution surrounding the globe. Socrates lived and died speaking the truth. What is the truth? What is a lie? Why are the rich still well rich and you still poor? Luck, chance, birth, etc. Why does the Church Tithe? Why is the Bible altered by the Rich to serve their interests? Do you really believe God wants us all to be homeless, hungry, starving? Why does marriage not work? Why does owning beget more debt? Why are elections jokes to the common sense and dignity of man? Why is there still racism? Why do we have The NBA, The NFL, NHL and NASCAR? Combining research, history, philosophy, religion and practical knowledge, Doc Lies Cole attempts to bring Socrates back to life? He beckons us to take the most important journey, the one blocked. The path to power is not through the barrel of a gun (Mao), but in the halls of your mind, of your soul. Tears Run Unlimited To Hope To the reader, You and I are living a lie. People, places and things are nouns until we put a “Truth” in them. In this book, well it is a hope you may not become a fool anymore. One philosopher wrote “The Anti-Christ.” This is the “Anti-Truth.” For in order for us to rise out of poverty, we must think, act, and improvise from a “Top Down” approach. This work is inspired by “Thieves By Law;” a documentary celebrating lives of the underworld. To continue seeking the “Truth”

We were four teens, Timmy, Ronald, Billy and I. This book is fiction.
Most authors write about the what and who they are familiar.
This novella or short book is about town bent like a junkyard.
Yet there came no revolution nor reform to fix the dents.
It is full of misadventures of the Police chasing myself.
If you are a fan of Stranger Things on Netflix, or movies
like Stand By Me or The Outsiders, then I hope you
will enjoy these reflections. Time ran slower in the late 70s
and early 80s. So did people, so did cognition.

The place where the author tells you what the story is about.  The scene; Charleston SC, party capital of the South East. The epoch 1990-2002 and the theme, what is full maybe soon become empty.  This concerns money, time, alcohol, and other vices. I am writing to you young eager college freshman that might be missing something in your life.  It deals with you and your dreams.  It could mean the difference between you becoming a meager wage earner or a happy, content person with solid footing.  You peers may determine your future if you allow them to kill your dreams.
Come with me to the year of 1990.  The pace was slower, people were not addicted to the ‘net, cell phones, and texting someone was still on a sticky piece of paper.  Flyers of local bands were plentiful and formed a backdrop of human color to the polished college campus.  The Doric columns by the Cistern at the College of Knowledge held sway over us.  The neo-European classical architecture, bordered with world famous iron works constantly reminded us of the genteel nature of Charleston SC.   Club venues like Café 99, East Bay Trading Company, the Tree house, the Juke-box, Myskans, Henry’s, High Cotton, A. C’s, Mike Calder’s Pub, Indigo’s were some of the happiest spots on the Earth for us soon to be adults.  What mattered to us were the music, the wine, and the sunshine.  For beaches were also part of that innocent charm Charleston warmed us with during the early 1990s.  Some of the clubs you did not want to go due continual beer fights are not listed, but still sit invitingly to College of Knowledge students to this day! Plus other Tales from Market and Calhoun Streets during wonderful weekends of 1999-2002. I was a lowly U. S. Navy veteran who just finished four years of playing a Marine at MCAS (Marine Corps Air Station) Beaufort.  More on that story later.  Well for most of you freshman orientation is a drag.  As it was for me, but what it did do was provide me with some direction.  

“It was 1973, Nixon had not yet resigned, U. S. troops were still in Vietnam. We had three channels to choose from. Drug use was casual and nobody was getting busted. Gas prices were high as they are know. I remember seeing that Rolling Stones eight track tape in my sister’s boyfriend’s hot rod car. I remember the posters of Zep, Alice Cooper, and the lava lamps. Hendrix stood on a wall all to his own attesting to highs gone too far.
Then me and the Bentons down the street decided to get into some trouble. The Bentons were the bad asses, the bullys, the thugs if you will. The three Brothers were in their early teens, and I was there prey. They wanted to cajole me into their antics, and if I didn’t they would beat the shit out of me! As much as I tried to avoid them on the playground, they were always there. In the next couple of paragraphs I will allude to our antics in a few minutes okay?
Then there was the project Gallman Heights gang. They were African Americans who used to beat me like white devil slave masters. I remember three of them taking a huge limb, swinging back like George Brett (Kansas City Royals 3rd baseman), and nailing me in the back. I saw stars, and think was passed out for a while. When I came to, they were gone, but left there trusting pine limb as a reminder not to mess with them.
But you could not get me off the playground. I remember fighting three of them at one time like a corned animal on the Discovery Channel. One tried to rip my gums out while on top of me. I rolled over, grabbed a nearby stick and hit him in the ribs with all of my seven year old might. He ran off and told his other two hench kids. Then they came over chasing me, so I saw a point were there was a rim from tire. I hurled it at one nailing him in the right anterior thigh. Then I took on the one with the karate skills and laughed while he tried in vain to hurt me with his gentle kicks. I nailed him with a right haymaker and poof gone!”

Set in Low County Charleston South Carolina,
This story is about three sisters growing closer and older. Like the ebb and flow of the Atlantic Ocean tides, their relationships revolve around Barbara and Richard.
In this short novella, the listener will hear of
romance, drug abuse, adultery, Co-dependency, female family infighting, women fighting men with fists, women heroines who range from 3o to 50 something. The setting is the early 1990s. The participants are three females, an Over Lord Mother, and a Father Losing Sobriety. Then there is the younger brother who thinks he is the smartest, but is the dumbest.
Two were older than I, and the youngest, wiser. Yet all three have crossed each other during their years of semantic webbings. This is their story, their book and I dedicate to their spirit of surviving. From the cellar of omitted poverty within white walls and surrounding sandy bricks, they have succeeded despite themselves, society, bad marriages, drugs, alcohol and a world which has grown above them. Dostoevsky wrote The Brother’s Karamazov during the late nineteenth century concerning the abuses of the Russian caste system. Why I decided to write this from a liar of a darkened Connex in the desert of Iraq, is beyond me.
But you cannot defeat realism, for after the fads of fantasy books, movies and music, we have the greatest mystery of all to decipher, our selves, or our own code if you will. Whether you enjoy this opus or not concerns me not. For the truth is on trial here before your own imaginations.