Standards and Values

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.

The Door is Open

How remarkable to imagine

another period of our lives

measured in time, in knowledge,

in hopes, in tribulations, in grief,

in discovery, in coming of age,

the doors are opening

all across the horizon,

in each avenue of growth,

in every challenge to our passion.

the doors are opening

to allow minds to become alert

to a world that begins with their eyes,

while guided by principles we offer

in humble contrast to our own

quiet ignorance with allowance.

the doors are opening,

and in walk our lives

as a young child or old messenger,

we each might enjoy the bounty

we offer one another in peace.

the doors are opening,

let’s welcome the stroll.

3rd Desk From The Wall

desk

I sit down alone here,

my desk,

my refuge for the hour,

no one can touch me here

oh there might be eyes,

occasional grunts,

perhaps even a wad of paper,

beyond that I have a teacher

knows I sit here

I sit in the 3rd desk from the wall

every day until yesterday.

~

I stopped going to that class,

the desk spoke to me,

the wood burned with spite

a ruthless act of cowardice

I wasn’t able to go near the

3rd desk from the wall,

my name, it is my name embedded in the wood,

the teacher who doesn’t know who I am

except my name

with the words underneath.

~

I sit in the 3rd desk from the wall,

forever burned into my memory

are the lies and deceit

of my peers.

~

Picture found on Tumblr

School Doors Knocking

I can hear the sound at night,

the clasp when the handle shakes

as the door slams shut.

This is not an offensive sound,

simply the mechanics of the entry

to my classroom.

Tonight, while I lay in bed,

having usurped the beauty of summer’s heat,

my head is gradually shifting,

a knowing, necessary accentuate

response to the coming days

when they will enter

with needs, smiles, ideals, attitudes,

trust.

For there is no other place for their hearts

to be expanded, loved, and crucified.

In the classroom,

where their lives will intermix

with dozens of others,

all with the same goals in mind,

yet interrupted by the cycle of education.

I can hear the sound at night,

the clasp when the handle shakes

as the door slams shut.

I have to dream a little bit,

perhaps figure out a way,

to prop that door

wide open.

A Teacher’s Lament

Where to now the speaker suggests,

wondering how to run away,

or perhaps the willingness to stay

is stronger than any of their behests.

~

We live lives mapped on calendars

those we glance to progress

trying to maximize less

all in the nature of being their mentors.

~

How quickly we notice the summer sky

begin to play with our security

dabbling closer to reality

while we plan our classes screaming ‘why!’

~

Oh, to live in the eternal month of May,

to know the end is certainly near

to listen, the wisps of fresh air we hear,

already in my august, I do miss today.

~

Yet extraordinary days lay just ahead,

the minds of our younger learners,

they count on our being yearners,

in simple success – even something read

~

The academic calendar has called to say hello

‘we wish in future months to own your soul!’

In The Flash of a Moment

Cap & Diploma 1

Do you recall,

big brother standing over you,

saying the words you listen to today.

‘If I could do it all over again’

~

Freshman year, starting high school.

All the fanfare of the big house,

pick your own schedule,

no more lines to Algebra class,

standing quiet in the hall,

while Jeff McCutcheon strolled by with Civics

reading ‘Crime and Punishment’

with a smirk on his face,

only to impress the her,

he would pass in single file.

~

Way back when we were on our own,

find the classroom,

begin that initial posture,

set the tone

learn no names,

find friends who will be …

letting go of old classmates

by virtue of spacial proximity.

~

Recall the struggle when no one

waltzed in to hold your hand,

how distant the world felt,

when Economics kicked your ass

a year later … new adjustments.

~

Different friends,

hanging out together,

finding commonalities

in eyes, jeans, sweaters, hair styles.

Perhaps trying to find the right look.

Junior year and she really did,

Sadie Hawkins danced and made everything alright,

at least for the rest of that year,

until she left for him,

sort of an overnight express.

~

Now we stand in a new line,

a different sort of pomp because

this is about you today.

The end of this chapter,

allows a new sojourn to move forward.

‘Earned it brother’ he said on the telephone.

When are you coming home man

your usual response in a miles away

sadly ironic tone …

Boot camp for him.

~

The sunlight streaking,

brilliant

stars aligned tonight,

any possibility for you …

Graduate!

When We Last Spoke

bullying

That incident in the hallway,

seemed a thing of the past,

I thought we were moving forward,

didn’t think their strength would last.

When we last spoke,

you smiled and said good-bye,

the same way you had

since we met in second grade.

~

High school coming to an end,

the next chapter,

so many lives,

so few recall the memories,

that others have endured.

Yet we go forward

with our day as we always have.

Perhaps a sandwich,

maybe I’ll go for a run,

the summer is ahead,

and college, my God,

this is where I am today.

~

I remember the very day,

they’d been waiting all morning,

he slipped by without notice,

figured today he’d be alright,

but it was after school,

when he walked out to his car,

they’d spray-painted his name,

inside a circle of rejection,

They’d all gone to the dance,

forgot about him that night,

figured he was at home,

doing whatever they hadn’t

any idea what he did,

what did he do,

they wondered now,

standing in formation,

the entire student body,

today’s speaker brought tears.

~

We cannot forget each other,

in the present or later on,

we might think that today

is easily forgotten,

but for some, it remains,

forever really.

That’s the fascination

that becomes our terror.

We must smile a real hello,

we have to become the strength,

to carry their bags,

when the weight becomes too much.

~

We have to keep speaking,

certainly continue asking.

We must believe,

we are all in this together,

then maybe,

another day,

they might,

want to understand.

Five Days, Five Photos – Day Four; On Diversity

( a continuance in a five day series inspired by Dancing Echoes )

Obama

Our president is Black,

I want to speak to that for a minute.

I remember the commentary,

the pundits, the wannabes,

Racism is over, the President is Black.

I laughed inside until the tears began.

I wondered how many years,

how many racial slurs,

when will our society finally recognize,

our diversity is reliant upon our

acceptance, awareness, ability to process,

our world is not going to remain the way it did,

in 1950 when you could pretend away change.

We can no longer avoid the reality of our lives …

Society is intense, social media will speak,

our people are together, all, without question, simply

human beings.

When will we ever figure that out?

Black President,

Ferguson controversy,

Baltimore atrocity,

daily renderings of diminished capacity.

Yes, I cannot call it anything else, beyond idiocy

on the part of our society.

So here’s my rant for the day,

I’m delighted we have the opportunity of

President Obama.

Let’s be realists and recognize the work ahead,

let’s try not to be skewed toward bandaids and kisses.

let’s look one another in the eye,

let’s smile,

together.

(tonight I would like to nominate ivonprefontaine to continue to five days, five stories plan)

Vacant Stares

If we could, step inside the mind of each,

we would discover worlds of laughter above,

yearning, pressing, wishing we might teach

each of them the key to learning … love.

For when I step off my ladder,

explore the new ideal rather

than ignore the immediacy

of that ludicrous scrutiny,

I become sadly aware of a world beyond me.

~

If right now in the moment I were to suggest

that every notion in your mind be put to rest

could we all then just suddenly digest

a quiet reality, we’re simply true I’d … jest

For is that laughter

the key to our after,

when once a disaster,

today, we know hereafter

our world in our mind’s eye is easier recognized.

~

A classroom, a delivery of ideas, someone else wrote,

we are to discuss each variable, I ask them to make note

This is our life today in the moment, I monstrous do gloat,

my goal is to hold them accountable, not let them float.

A sea breeze allows the eyes to drift

soft in the morning sunshine I lift

my head, feel the breeze, gentle gift

that departure now sends me adrift.

Is there any value in knowing I might have just missed the point.

~

In the surreal nature masking that cathartic moment of energy,

may we all sometime feel our own novel cue toward synergy.

Sniffles, Standards, Security

test

We are here today, to lessen the burden,

with oval dots and rigorous minutiae

our lives in the cradle of society,

based upon computer printouts,

with hours of anxiety, sweat and fatigue,

we will measure your self-image

in just a few hours, brief analogy.

Recall your lives as you walk in the door,

put on the back-burner your self-worth,

until the final results are returned,

we cannot value ideals beyond a number.

~

Scanning the room, I see faces,

anticipation, fear, boredom, preoccupation,

all of the same yet miles away

from the world they live in,

today they belong to us,

the ovals and diagrams,

short paragraphs and hypotheses,

every aspect of our day,

will be tested today.

~

The quiet of the room, reveals short breathing,

heavy sighs and a nasal drip,

a sneeze a sniffle, a sneeze, nasal drip,

and everyone endures the lesson together,

like an open seasoned prison camp,

their lives dependent upon scan sheets

along with prompts written by human beings.

~

What is the measure of a testing day,

when outside the world crumbles away.