Ben
He
walks the dim halls
past
the Stuart Little mural,
shoes
on the wrong feet,
no
socks, bowlegged,
his
shorts showing bony legs
like
shrunken baseball bats.
He
recalls hearing a teacher say,
"Ben, wasn't that a movie
about
a kid who played with rats?"
He
wishes people would stop thinking
he
plays with scary animals,
although
he'd almost rather do anything
than
be at this school
where
he floats like a ghost that
teachers
are trying to give form to
by
reading nonsense rhymes--
dat,
gat, jat, lat, rat....
He
would like someone to fix him,
to
at least say hello to him
as
he stands framed in the principal's doorway,
a
scribbled teacher's note crumpled in his hand.
He
eyes the red licorice whips on her desk and
hunger
and fear mix in his stomach.
When
she doesn't look up
he
returns to wander the dark hallway.
Bobby Bartleby
School
I ain’t talkin’, no matter
what she does.
“Why were you sent up here in
the first place?”
she asks. And I say nothin’.
Just because.
"Why aren’t you working?
Don’t give me those shrugs.”
I’ll show no tear, no smile on
my face.
I ain’t talkin’, no matter
what she does.
She asks if I know who
Bartleby was.
I stare at her throat, her
blouse and its lace.
She repeats. I say
nothin’. Just because.
She’s gettin’ real mad. I hear
a fly buzz.
She might punch me out. I look
down, in case.
I ain’t talkin’, no matter
what she does.
She yells. Suddenly there's a
great big pause.
She’ll kick me out. Says this
is not a race.
She has time. I say nothin’.
Just because.
She goes on. Blah, blah, blah,
ifs, whens, and huh's?
Yeah, whatever. She's enjoyin
this chase.
I’m not talkin’, no matter
what she does.
I will always say nothin’.
Just because.
Moon Over Back-to-School Night
After my talk
about
standards,
lessons
and assessments
for
the year ahead,
I
pack up my notes,
the
classroom empty
of
concerned parents.
Outside, I am struck by
an
orange, first-quarter moon,
and
it occurs to me
what
I should have said--
even
the moon
waxes
and wanes,
it
takes some time
to
reach one's brightest phase,
even
what we cannot see
is
often still there.
Or, perhaps I should have told them
raise your eyes and gaze
upon where our children
will one day walk.
No comments:
Post a Comment