new year, back to work
meetings, trainings, pointless tests
(testing our patience)
no students today
semi-empty corridors
echo their absence
new resolutions
data, observations, goals
flood the teachers’ souls
i walk my mile home
with two six packs; ignore looks
(a friend’s thank-you gift)
girls are jubilant
a day alone with daddy
bright as this sunset:
Eritrean lunch
post-war teacher offering
how blessed they make me
youngest’s six sound bites
mad, glad, hungry, scared… favorite?
Mama’s “Für Elise”
tears backstage, waiting
for a song i can’t quite play
that’s her favorite sound?
middle school yelling
another homework battle
oldest sets standards
caught in the middle
daughter two rattles school story
steals bed time cuddles
how spicy, this meal
carried across continents
homemade, just like us
two chances to prove
that i deserve to be here
fall, winter, fierce fear
two chances plagued twice
year before? a standard test
today? dead Internet
set up my failure
as Google Classroom crashes
tearing me to bytes
i wish she loved them
as fully as i love them
instead? i strike out
after school, i walk
to get six-day car hostage
and then i see them:
top down, sun shining
classic MG sports car grins
this October day
yes, my mechanics
can charge whatever they want
cruise streets in fixed cars
we’ll be right over
hood open, my car broken
and i’m the failure?
daughter calls: tire flat.
sun, why dost thou forsake me
shining so damn bright?
my car stays hostage
we’ll walk into tomorrow
blindsided by fall
(i’ll dream of driving
of summers off, beach tours
of all that bytes me)
technically backed up
saving docs or wasting class?
back up and reboot
user unfriendly
tech for all, yet all are lost
digital natives?
native arrogance
in a web filled with details
that they overlook
login password failed
because of singular dot
Horton hears us all
little minions shriek
megaphones set, point taken
we are here, save us!
technicality:
life simpler, yet more complex
back up and reboot
bag on, keys in hand
lights still off, door prop broken
they wait for me here
never a moment
to take a breath or a rest
once here? i breathe them
spinning hat cycle
switch styles: students, admin
teach, plan, grade, succumb
bag down, keys waiting
lights come on, i work past dark
they wait for me there
somewhere in between
i put on the mama hat
dinner, bed cuddling
i dream of yoga
breathing in, out, stretching soul
hats off, i breathe them
ten months ago, dead:
my heart, when you told me that
(teaching is in me)
but you couldn’t teach
you could only criticize
i’m phoenix rising
with hate, you inspired
with love, i put students first
and guess what? we win
a perfect lesson
fits into care and action
not criticism
if only you’d see:
guide a better tomorrow
we’d want to stay here
but we’re not all strong
or feathers-renewable
with love, you could win
with love, we will win
my students and i? winners
please don’t burn feathers
tap your inner soul
for god’s sake, read the right book
allow us to fly
staff development:
the after school detention
for over-booked teachers
grading until ten:
another form of torture
i put myself through
tomorrow’s feedback:
priceless words that they’ll revise
i live, love for them
five empty baskets
consolation for my soul
when grief engulfs joy
back to old routines
information overload
do as i say, not…
day’s success stories
vary, depending on view
mine: crosses they’ll bear
now for new nightmares
first-day jitters springing up
fan fires sun’s laugh
bring on my Friday:
arrange, plan, copy, paste, bake:
teacher-mother pie
always a puzzle
time for nothing but my kids
theirs and mine: ours
It’s time to say goodbye. I tried editing. Removing posts. I started with the word drink as my post searcher.
Twenty-eight posts. (I might mention that I have 1,058 posts, the rest of which do not contain this word, but would it matter?)
During my search, I read about the beauty of my girls on a glorious Sunday. Of parties I’d had a great time at. Of weekend joy and love. Of coworkers having a moment of happiness after work.
And, gasp, about that awful thing that almost everyone I know does after work, but I’m not allowed to do since I’m a teacher.
This is one of the most frightening novels I’ve ever read. It bothered me so much when I read it, but even more now. I feel I share this room with Winston:
For some reason the telescreen in the living-room was in an unusual position. Instead of being placed, as was normal, in the end wall, where it could command the whole room, it was in the longer wall, opposite the window. To one side of it there was a shallow alcove in which Winston was now sitting, and which, when the flats were built, had probably been intended to hold bookshelves. By sitting in the alcove, and keeping well back, Winston was able to remain outside the range of the telescreen, so far as sight went. He could be heard, of course, but so long as he stayed in his present position he could not be seen. It was partly the unusual geography of the room that had suggested to him the thing that he was now about to do. (1.1.12)
I sit here now in my living room in Cartagena, Spain. I have spent the greater part of two weeks sharpening my résumé, rewriting my cover letter, and completing online applications so that I can bring my family home.
They are counting on me. Trusting me. Just as they did a year ago when I told them we were coming here.
I cannot let this writing, soul-fed, heartbreaking, ever-too-honest writing, keep me from providing for my family.
And so, just as Winston faced his biggest fear of rats, took his sip of ever-bitter gin and ended the novel with, “I love Big Brother,” I am going to have to concede.
Big Brother wins. I am taking down my blog. And with it, so many pieces of my heart that it will never beat quite the same again.
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