but that was enough to put me on alert
for our parent-teacher conference
since your son was a little scamp

I remember hearing your cleated shoes
deliberately snapping down the hallway
long before I saw you

even with that,
I wasn’t prepared for your greeting
as you marched into my room:
just “I suppose you know what you’re doing”

only “I suppose you know what you’re doing”
(was this a conference or an inquisition?)

I’ve replayed that moment many times
and either asked for an apology
or countered in my own boorish way:

“I was wondering exactly the same thing about you”
or “Now I see why Adam acts the way he does”

I don’t remember how I replied,
but it probably confirmed what you suspected,
that I was clueless, a fraud, an impostor,
running a classroom scam

and too many years have passed to recall
what went on during the rest of the conference,
but I realize now that you had every right
to wonder if I was up to the job

I was so unskilled
and so in need of guidance myself

and perhaps more damning
so uninterested
in helping someone like your son

and which
you probably
assigned
with good intentions

Forgive me for saying
there were mostly uninspiring
so superficial
and so out of date

as a member of a farming family
you were knee-deep in  life
learning about cropping and coupling
everyday 
doing work that really mattered
everyday

the same certainly can’t be said
for the assignments in my classroom

I’m sure, for instance,
that writing  practice paragraphs
stimulated you no end 

what would life be like, after all, 
without knowing how to write
pointless little bits of prose

for a time
you and one of your town friends
ate your lunch in my classroom
and shared stories about home life

I became TEACHER only when
the language became too real
——————————————
Doug,
you were who you were,
a young man with a beat-that attitude
born of work and responsibility

I may have had 10 years
on you by the calendar
but in terms of life experiences
you were more than my equal  

remember the times you sent me out of class
or the time you made me stand in the corner
with gum on my nose
oh yeah    good times

and what about the time
you saw me out in the hall    crying

what did that make you think
that I had been hit or hurt
made to feel foolish

or that I was scared to go to my next class
or scared to get on the bus
or scared to go home
or sick of feeling left out

or maybe you thought
I was just having one of those days

it would have been nice    maybe
for you to have found out why I was upset
you being a teacher and all
but that didn’t happen

oh yeah   good times in middle school

true to form, I kept my distance
having no idea what to make of you
I don’t think anyone did

I can’t remember any of your classmates
purposefully acknowledging your presence
it was as if you weren’t really there–
a phantom, apparition, specter, shade

rumor had it that in part of your house
there were dirt floors
that would have been only fitting

on those occasions when you did show up
any work that you did was nearly unintelligible
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

how would your story have played out
if you had attended a rural school
a century past
learning your numbers and letters
with a few farm kids

you would have struggled there too
but, at the very least, your classmates
coming from the same difficult soil
would have better understood you

and what would it have mattered anyway
either your father or some other farmer
would have had plenty of work for you
work that required a strong back
more than it required reading and writing

the piano solo you performed
at an all-school assembly
demonstrated an expertise
that went way beyond
what the other kids were doing

it’s too bad home schooling
or Christian schooling
weren’t options for you
considering your religious
upbringing and all

our school obviously lacked
the faith-based ballast
to steady your way

that is, if the discomfort 
you felt in my classroom–
what am I doing here?– 
carried over to your other classes

without the devotional guidance
that stablized (or at least influenced)
you life on the outside
you were clearly sailing in troubled water

to luxuriate in love stories and love poems
“love in a stronger season than reason,
my sweet one, and April is where we are”
to learn about courtship, share crushes

to sing about perfect partners, write romances
let passion drip over everything

that would have caught your attention
at least for awhile

I’m semi-serious about this
because it seemed to me that you
like a lot of your friends
were into RELATIONSHIPS

you had discovered boys
and nothing else mattered much
cetainly not the day to day
tedium of transposing sentences or
reciting irregular verbs

and it  might help explain why you came
into class one day with my wedding ring
that I had lost in the auditorium
displayed for all to see on a chain
draped around your neck

just a prop I suppose
in your current passion play
but a bit cheeky nonetheless
wouldn’t you say

and a teacher of social studies
an appropriately amorphous subject

     was it history, the study of cultures,
     a geography class, civics,
     or some new-age mishmash?
     in all probability you didn’t know
     or care

the students called you MGM
because you showed so many movies,
covering any and all subjects,
including one about the history of tea

what went on in your class
other than the movies
was a mystery to me

you complained one night
that your students couldn’t print well
as if that were a serious concern
we’re talking about 13-year-old kids
in the late 70s

parent-teacher conferences must have been
a trip because I doubt that you knew
all of your students’ names:
“Now . . . who’s your son? David Brubaker?
Okay, David. Let’s see . . . hmm . . .”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
you were our school’s Lear
old and out of it
and surely ready to retire
but for whatever reason
that didn’t happen

instead you showed up everyday
and, so it seemed,
pretty much did nothing everyday
and that would drive anyone mad

that you were a principal
and not a classroom teacher
was a good thing

you in the classroom
would have been like
Mother Theresa in a brokerage firm
truly out of your element

good teaching requires vision, initiative,
wisdom, and passion–all of which
you were in short supply

as far as leadership goes . . .
well, let’s just say you hardly
seemed part of the school
seldom venturing too far from the office
rarely interacting with students or staff

I happened to be in the office
when you met with two boys
who allegedly had exposed themselves

the room became uncomfortably quiet
until you erupted with,
“I suppose you think you can pull your things out
because it’s Groundhog Day!”

nothing more really needs to be said

The faculty meeting takes quite awhile.
A tidy hall pass will start right away.
Exceptional ed teacher puts on her smile.

A sprint to her classroom, thinking what guile
Can get the kids to color maps her way.
Methods-class honed, she’s become versatile.

Homespun discipline is part of her style.
“We don’t need mouth muscles to work. Okay?”
Exceptional ed teacher puts on her smile.

Then time for testing a new boy named Lyle
To see if he scores at level 8A.
Methods-class honed, she’s become versatile.

1960 film presenting the Nile
Will continue through her last class, she prays.
Exceptional ed teacher puts on her smile.
Methods-class honed, she’s become versatile.