Sunday, June 15, 2008

a poem, found in the book "The Perks of Being a Wildflower."

As a teacher, this poem was very poignant.
Just something to jog thought.
I love my job.
These are my students. 
Life is real...honest...shouldn't it be...shouldn't we be?
How many of my students, your friends, people you pass on the street
feel this way?
I hope it speaks to you like it did me.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was about
And his teacher gave in an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn" 
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him and A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left the butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much make up
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung in on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.  

Friday, June 13, 2008

...packing...

I've spent today doing nothing.  Normally, during the Summer, that's not a problem, however this Summer I have to move across the country.  I need to be packing!  I mentioned to a friend today that I needed to go get some packing tape, I have boxes but no tape.  So why haven't I started?  I guess to start packing is a tangible realization that I'm leaving this place that I've come to love.  Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about what's to come in my life, but it doesn't seem real right now.  Packing, I think, would make it real.  I don't know if I'm ready for it to be real yet.  I'm not read to say "goodbye."