#95: On the End of Spring Break

There’s laundry to fold and put away
and dust bunnies to suck up
and it’s raining and blowing so hard
we’re sort of trapped in here.
Water puddles up in the flower beds
and these damn sugar ants keep
crawling over my keyboard
while I type up another poem.
It’s Saturday, half way through,
and after that we have one more
Sunday before everyone goes
back to school.  There’s an over-
whelming amount of grading
just waiting on my desk in the
classroom which I’ve managed
not to think about all week long.
But now I’m thinking about it
and there’s a heaviness in my
chest of dread anticipation.
Why must there be grading?
Why must everything be measured?
Does learning not happen
unless there is a record of it?
These are the thoughts I’m having
on the end of spring break,
and then I’m wondering what I will do
with my last real night of freedom,
longing for something just slightly
out of my reach.

Heavy Downpour

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Filed under Poetry, Teaching

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