Still counting down to the start of the schoolyear with a week’s worth of unpublished school poems. Here’s a poem I wrote based on my time as an 8th-grade teacher. I had a couple of students who would always be at school early, helping me out in my portable classroom. Truthfully, some days I just really needed alone time to prepare for the day, but you could tell that school was a sanctuary for these kids, so what could you do?
| I Don’t Know Why… (A poem for two voices) |
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| (TEACHER) | (BOTH TOGETHER) | (STUDENT) |
| I don’t know why she knocks on my portable’s door when |
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| it’s still dark | ||
| outside, but Ms. T’s lights shine a rectangle of warmth like a soft-burning fireplace. I’m not really supposed to be at school |
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| at this hour | ||
| she should be wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe, eating cinnamon oatmeal with her |
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| mom and dad | ||
| both leave for work early, and my house feels grey and cold when they go, so they drop me off and I help out |
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| in my classroom | ||
| she spends an hour sponging blackboards, cleaning desks, and even |
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| scraping gum | ||
| is worth it for a small space, morning chatting, rows of books, and Ms. T’s |
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| thank you | ||
| –Laura Purdie Salas all rights reserved |