Poem on April 29
The best thing I could do
for myself this morning:
spin Scary Monsters
in the empty classroom
before the students arrived,
timing “Ashes to Ashes”
and “Fashion” just for
the moment as the first
group of kids came through
the doors of A-9.
That was a good way to begin.
What has felt like a week
of Thursdays comes to a close
tomorrow at the end of our
first full week of what we’re
calling the “hybrid” model—
google meets in the morning,
in-person afternoon classes.
My 9th graders are quiet, subdued,
maybe somewhat shell-shocked,
having been alone for so long,
not having to talk, not having
to be seen, now suddenly,
totally exposed. These are not
the 9th graders I’m used to.
It’s early, I know, and maybe
by the end of the school
year they’ll be back to their
old selves, and instead of my
wishing that they’d talk,
I’ll be wishing they’d stop.
I hope so. Otherwise, I feel
we’d still be learning at a distance,
less remote, to be sure,
but still that gulf, that silence,
those long awkward pauses,
which may or may not be pregnant:
Ground control to Major Tom–
sometimes it’s impossible to tell
if anyone is out there.
michael jarmer 