I’m still in bed
The small hum of my husband’s car backing down the driveway
My hand gropes for the pull-chain on the nightstand lamp
I place my laptop on my old cutting board and slowly open it up
The chill of the wood now warming against my thighs
Click, click, clicking of keys
It’s 4:30 a.m.
Papers from school still in my bag, ungraded
Students will ask for them and get mad
Daughters asleep in their bunk bed
Dolls once snuggled and cuddled now on the floor
I will learn of their midnight dreams and pretend to care in about two hours
Click
Click
Clicking of keys
I backspace statements that could get me fired
I reword—constantly reword—to bring clarity and limit the hate mail
Encouraging readers to redraw their circle, and then think outside of it
(Boxes are boring)
Telling the truth about working in an inner-city classroom
Teaching vs. Being a Teacher
The first is learning, adventurous, passion overflowing
The second is full of politics, mandated busy work, pressurized pressure
Blogging and blending the roles
It centers me—empowering, more hopeful
I excavate my heart to discover my true self: The life I want, the job I want
Today I just might be heard in the White House
Or at one lonesome teacher’s scratched-up metal desk
Responses from Ireland, Hawaii, Uganda, Canada, Saudi Arabia keep me a-clickety-clicking
Earth becomes my classroom
My blog posts are my handouts in this virtual curriculum
With all its joys, teaching within the four walls can be confining
So I click, click, click at 3, 4, 5 in the morning, at least once a week
Or else ...
I just might quit.
*edited on 11/1/12