“whatever”

said his math teacher,

when I wrote out my main concerns.

“Whatever”

she said to my child

as if his mother wasn’t worth the turn.

“Hurry up, I’ve got  mommy duty,”

states the English teacher then.

What am I, chopped liver?

as they tuned out a child’s chance to win.

Wow, just Wow

my feelings numb, because I just don’t see the care.

As if anyone bothering with me

would only be on a dare.

I’ve learned that numbing over the years

to sheath my spirit in a drape

at home,  at school

it’s all the same,

the rent in my heart

continues to gape.

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$999.30…kick a rock and see what slithers out…

 

If grief is like a slough,

then anger is a pair of boots that help you walk though it.

because you can’t ignore it.

You can’t walk around it.

You must walk though it.

And, when Carol Comeau said, “Ben Hardwick has his supporters.”

and Mike says, “Hitler had his supporters, too”

And when Jan Christensen said, “The bar is not high enough to fire him.”

and I said, “My children are not a high enough bar–what will it take?”

So who determines what to grieve?

Trust gone?  Betrayal?  Being told, just told anything

to fill the space that truth will invade if left empty?

Permeate the air with new energy, only to find the same black spirit

pervasive, with no change.

To grieve anew, when lied to, used and with choices denied.

Who should take it upon himself to withhold?  Is that how he would want to be treated?  Or was it the easy way, the learned way, repetition numbing responsibility or ability to reach out.

Playing games on planes of the Universe.

Slapping aside any who say they want to play.

Paid players winning with fouls, refs bought to say the play.

and the commissioner says, go forward, apply constant pressure

But don’t get mad.

I think it is really–don’t let people see you get mad.

Mad, anger, motivation, to apply persistence.

Who could do it day in and day out

in the middle of a Happy Dance?

It’s coming soon…

that time again
to pat each other on the back.
Teacher Appreciation week says
we should thank even those missing
the “teaching, caring” knack.

I never got a thank you card, remembering when
a parent said, “My kid enjoys your class.”
I still treasure that time
No one else ever knew,
but It made my heart light shine.

I never got a special award
For making my boss look good.
I only took a lonely student
Trick or Treating all around the neighborhood.

I never got a merit raise,
My students didn’t test too well.
But I did make sure they had my phone number
And knew they could call me, if they ever fell.

Some students never knew my name
and really, I didn’t always know theirs,
but my efforts live in pictures
of their graduations and prizes at science fairs.

We didn’t have much school spirit
in hospitals and the prison.
but, I hope in adulthood, they’ve found a life
which has a meaningful rhythm.

I believe all children do deserve
the very best of us.
Not being told to please these teachers,
while others standing watch
With children only learning distrust

Now, I am supposed to say some thank you,
cook a lunch and buy some gifts.
I don’t believe that matters much. It never did to me.
Demanding accountability for all those adults
Is the best thank you for “good” teachers
this Mom can really see.

The measure of a man’s real character is what he would do if he knew he never would be found out.

~Thomas Babington Macaulay

This was fun, too…

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I enjoyed doing this and wish it could have been developed more…

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