Some things a teacher can
\nthat others can’t:
\nfocus every eye in the room
\nignite a brain
\nfire an imagination<\/p>\n
and like a judicious parent
\ninstill the everlasting thirst.<\/p>\n
Yet over all those years
\nthe tidal surges of
\nadamantine mothers and fathers who defended
\nthe perpetual inertia of their failing offspring,
\nignorant politicians with corrosive “improvements”
\nwho believed hype was wisdom,
\nconflicted colleagues who leaked angst that
\ndrowned any spark or smoldering ember\u2014
\nthese caustications corroded all joy
\nlayered a hard patina of\u00a0 rust
\nleft him silent, still, an empty tin man
\nwho lit no fires
\nsaw no stars
\ndreamed in another dark desert<\/p>\n
Then, after years
\nhad distanced and
\nmemory cooled,
\na refreshing invitation
\nto penetrate young eyes
\nand draw them in:
\nNow not the parent
\nbut the grampa,
\nhe gleefully lit the rockets.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I wrote this poem after a call by teachers who were concerned that the student cast of the spring musical were not going to be ready for opening night. I suggested they call in a formidable stranger to shake up the cast. They asked me to do it. I watched an hour and a half of rehearsal, then addressed the cast. The result was electric, for the students, and for me. Continue reading