Go home and write
A page tonight
And let that page come out of you
And then it will be true
It’s funny
Now I‘m the instructor
Giving directions, staring from
The other side of the room
Standing, talking, yelling, drowning
No longer the insecure teenager
Unsure of who I am, of where I’m going
Truth for me? Its here not here.
I am 35, white, a teacher.
a father unsure of his role
A man trying to be a husband, a family
I am a part of them, as they are a part of me.
So where do you fit in,
my other children, my charges, my students?
Are we a part of each other:
you a part of me, me of you
Everyday I take part of you home with me,
though sometimes I would rather not
You enter my psyche, build me up
and tear me down from the inside
You invade my dreams, barrage my consciousness,
do violence in a way that
Forces life, viscous, exuding
from the pores of my existence
Tiny holes all around
Sometimes
I don’t have the strength
Sometimes
I don’t have the desire
All the time
You are there
To challenge me
To help me
To hurt me
“No pain no gain”
And You?
How do I affect you,
how do I make you cry
make you laugh
Make you sigh
make you think
make you sleep
Do you take me home at the end of the day
Do I make you jump, do I stand in your way
Turn your insides out?
I suppose you don’t always want me to be a part of you,
maybe never.
But I hope I am a part of you
since we are what we feel and hear and see;
I feel and hear and see you,
Hear you hear me—we two—you, me talk on this page.
Do you hear and see and feel me? How am I, you, we?
A Blip on a radar screen
comes into focus for an instant then vanishes
A voice crying out in the wilderness,
unheeded, barely noticed
My eyes scan the room, I catch your faces
frozen in the flash, and wonder
Who is more free?
I am white, and older but I don’t feel more free,
what is it to be free?
No longer the insecure teenager
Unsure of who I am, of where I’m going
I am the adult unsure of where I am
of who I should be
Father, son,
husband, teacher,
brother, uncle
I guess it never gets easier
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1 comment:
Good morning class today we're blah blah blah blah
it doesnt matter what we learn
it's who we work for that make us churn
the fat old guy who smells like pee, thats not the one who teaches me
they say that knowledge will set you free
it's hard when master shoots you down.
Work.
Improve.
work.
worse than before.
work.
not quite there.
work.
this is beter but..
work.
you kids are so lucky.
work.
work will set you free
thats what a teacher makes it be.
some day you need to learn
we dont work when we get burned.
teach your child well
if not we'll give you hell.
I've know you know three years gone by
you, the one that made me try
I'd have to say your quite the guy
scum bag yes but I dont care,
will I remember.
you'll be there.
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