i don’t ask for much
(credit where it’s due would do)
and a little faith
you’ve given neither
but i won’t back down, i won’t
(they’re worth fighting for)
someday you’ll see that
(or maybe you won’t; but me?)
i’ll credit their fight
teaching
Cross Country
weekend leftovers
murmur an early Monday
in my groaning gut
technology blues
plague two classes, one meeting
forced into nonsense
data collection
begins my singular plan
till phone rings: sick kid
frazzled packing up
for a stomach flu faker
then two extra kids
but that is not all!
cross country registration
at the last moment
my middle girl runs!
two days a week, a new plan:
laps around the park
(he can cook dinner–
we’ll eat late like back in Spain,
shed this U.S. stress)
and i will run too–
take tree-lined tech-free views home
(run free, not ragged)
Border Crossings
sacrifice summed up
in a hundred teens’ letters
breaks my heart each year
Two Too Many
end of day feet up
hours on end of walking
then pickup, dinner…
day two of two jobs
the runaround’s new to me
exhaustion takes time
the girls say it best:
hang the dolls on bike rack noose
and call it a day
Daykeep
eyes burning, itching
allergies taking over
lost words from far back
yet, i’m so happy
house tucked into dream pocket
i could let this go
this and my students
who deserve America
(this dream we all have)
and i’ll fight for them
and she’ll praise him, she’ll praise him
(but he wouldn’t fight)
and we all know it–
how deep my love grows. hard ass?
abso-fuck-lutely
hard ass, heart of gold.
that you can’t forget. you can’t.
and why now, why now?
cause it’s easy now?
cause you have a house, a home?
cause we’re good enough?
cause we were good then,
as golden as these lost days.
i’ll keep my days. thanks.
Hazel at Best
four weeks: iced mocha
from his teacher’s salary
to my starving morn
one more disruption
to make my students argue
(entitlements rule)
his blue-eyed gesture
almost makes the sacrifice
worth the sinking sun
he knows and i know
that he can’t buy my return;
best or not–i’m gone
no blue eyes at home
(from my man or anyone)
on my girls’ faces
nor a mocha bribe
for the heart-winning teacher.
cynic? true. best? yes.
no film, court judges,
observers, department heads
are worth this money
’cause money can’t buy
another summer soon lost
in a blue-eyed search
Summer School Blues
filmed, nitpicked, observed
teaching methods analyzed
no simple summer
Immersed
this is what i need
moments of full immersion
you give us so few
carve out each hour
fit in dialogue, writing
is it hard to see?
fish swimming upstream
we flail in your fishing line
unable to breathe
you could set us free
let the stream of words chase us
to our fluency
(it’s not your version,
but success lies in small bites
just give us a taste)
Fruit Snacks
twenty pounds of fruit
too many carrots to count
unwanted by teens
this bag carries all
sometimes heavy, sometimes light
let’s make us some juice!
road trip car snack solved
puréed, frozen, cooler prepped
break open and serve
(how i miss my girls
away at camp, house too still)
i fill it with plans
All You Need is Love
A couple examples of the diversity of South HS, our city, and our society: one family had a 105-year-old Caucasian great-grandma, a 70-something grandma (a South alumnus), an adopted son from Vietnam (also a South alumnus), his Vietnamese wife and freshman son.
Another family lived in a duplex. On one side lived two moms. We walked through the younger son’s bedroom to the other half of the duplex where the two dads lived. They are all raising two sons.
Both families received us warmly and had well-spoken, artistic, athletic children who want to come to our school for its friendliness and DIVERSITY.
These are eye-opening experiences. You can see firsthand that the only thing that really makes a family is LOVE.
If you took a moment to really see what it’s like on the other side of closed doors, your whole worldview could change. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
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