oh to delineate the mix of passions,
when all the heads converge in mourning,
the start of their own quiet circus,
to be revealed upon the main stage.
~
Theirs is a craft unlike any other,
a territorial nirvana perhaps in eyes
solo to the universe. Nearby, questions
always remain, tamed in discretion.
~
What heaven-sent ideals do bring
out the comfort of each participant,
in a common measure of sanity
in the beholder’s eyes we worry.
~
Often so easily forgotten in the flurry
of the day’s planning, the memory
that divines a lesson plan, suddenly
shattered in the throes of our humanity.
~
We are really simple folk with a passion
toward reaching the mecca, the pinnacle,
the over-arching, pendulum swaying
essence of a child’s swift education.
~
Numbers and charts, workable Venn
diagrams litter the monitors today.
Each professed design uniquely stable
in the eyes of the frightened minion.
~
Today begins again a journey everyone
familiar can appreciate, the anxiety,
the euphoric nature of creating a glint
in the eye of our student awaits.
~
This year, “I will reach more of them”
is the common phrase said quietly
while watching, looking, stealing
the ideas of our neighbor the teacher.
~
In a moment of purposeful disdain,
we accept the standards, the bubbles
remain in the minds of our surrogate
‘elder’ whose design we must enrich.
~
Remember, my elbow partner, to breathe
while we again beckon a desire to teethe.
Please I would love you to share words, suggestions …