The First P.F. of August
This poem was mentioned when Michelle commented on Ruth’s Post, “Be a Writer,” yesterday evening.
by Taylor Mali
Sunday nights I lie awake—
as all teachers do—
and wait for sleep to come
like the last student in my class to arrive.
My grading is done, my lesson plans are in order,
and still sleep wanders the hallways like Lower School music.
I’m a teacher. This is what I do.
Like a painter paints, or a sculptor sculpts,
a preacher preaches, and a teacher teaches.
This is what we do.
Experts in the art of explanation:
I know the difference between questions
to answer and questions to ask.
Click here to read the rest of this amazing, long poem.
Poetry Friday is being held at The Well-Read Child.