Dropping a smoothie sent me over the edge.
I was trying too hard to hold it all, and the weight shifted.
Everything fell out of arms and undid me.
Return to Presence, my Enneathought of the Day says,
but a return to presence meant I needed to start over.Give me a task, a group of fourth graders to watch over.
I can count to ten, but I can’t climb down from the bleachers.
I can sit on the floor with them to eat lunch, but I can’t
get back up. Know thyself.
Be true to who you are.
A body that is running on fumes of a school year.
A plate that is toppling, balanced on a single finger.Among the smiles of graduates on Facebook,
Margaret Simon, flash draft because I’ve been too busy to spend any time on crafting a poem.
I found a poem, a gift of Mary Oliver
whose wisdom buoys me,
“How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.”
Comfort me, oh poem.
Be with me, in me, over me.
Help me walk back into school today
another day in May.
May as a teacher is the hardest month of the year. Emotions are heightened. We are trying to squeeze in field trips, fun day/water day, ceremonies, awards, grades, and all the other seemingly endless paper work. It’s overwhelming. I didn’t have a poem ready for today, so I just did what I do best, open the blank blog post and write straight from my gut. This stress will be over soon, and I will settle into the relaxing days of summer. But today, there is much to do and little time to get it done. I’m sure you know what I mean. All my best to all the teachers out there just trying to make it to the end still smiling, still loving their job, and still being their best selves.
Reflections on the Teche 