My students look at me wide-eyed, expectantly-
A new year.
They sit in rows, incandescent minds
Brimming with intensity,
Passion, waiting for me to speak.
I sigh.
A new year of quiet, and reason, and #2 pencils,
And test scores and greasy-haired cohorts who
Teach to the test, teach to the test
Because the test has been held up to the sun
And the test has obscured all else, for
The show must go on and the show
Is all there is.
A new year of withering thoughts and
Dried out dreams until
Everything’s turned to stone and then
I go home for the summer.
Two steps from madness I linger, about to start class,
About to set off this chain of events,
Changing wine back to water,
I fear.

I remember fragments of a dream I once had


Making a difference somehow
I imagine myself rising up against turbulent waters

Rising up against the storm
I return once more to the familiar edge and look down-

The rocks below seem so small

What a thrill the ride would be!

But the jump would prove too fatal.

“Good morning class, my name is-”