tomorrow the career changes. or something.
from 1981 until now the only thing i could count on
was a fresh classroom that i could call mine
with my name on the board and a fresh set of students
waiting to do battle with ernest hemingway, algebra and the periodic chart
long gone are lesson plans created from my heart and soul…
yet. even if i could get that time back, i’m sure that i would. not.
1981. long ago dreams. $12,000. a year.
and i was happy to have it because i did not go into teaching for the money
i went in because i had nothing else to do.
i stayed for the joy.
even as my students are finishing their presentations
on romeo and juliet
i am trying not to love their work.
but i fail and fail again when students decorate the class
for the wedding that the lovers should have had.
i am trying to pretend that i do not care.
my heart and my head are mismatched with anger at injustice
and hope and love of the craft that is teaching.
and tomorrow. i drive down a different street. and say.