Here’s the second poem in today’s sonnet trilogy.
However, there are things I truly miss.
Not the rat race of it, the perpetual
Frantic pace, the bureaucratic bullshit,
Pendulum swing of best schoolhouse practice;
Not the bells of it, slaving to schedules, clocks,
And calendars, the battle between plans
And grades, always decisions about what
To neglect out of pure necessity;
Not the drama of it, the controversies,
The indifference, meanness, the disengaged,
The distracted, disruptors, the false outrage,
The grade-grubber, and the happy flunker.
All that aside, I never felt alone.
Students, teachers, the work—another home.