“I’m just running away,” you say.
Just.
Running.
Sometimes
Escape is a good idea.
If a tyrannosaurus is after you
or a smaller villain of equal viciousness, for example.
(You know what they say about sticks and stones).
Run today,
But keep your eyes open for future alternatives.
There’s a lot of meat in a tyrannosaurus;
harvesting offers its challenges,
but I have faith in you.
This is a stop.
But only a brief one.
Long journeys
Pre-school.
Kindergarten.
Elementary school.
Secondary school.
One bachelor’s degree.
Two bachelor’s degrees.
And finally school feels finished.
So we will celebrate as you don the cap and gown,
walk across a stage,
accept the diploma.
We’ll snap the photos and be glad
This is a stop in the educational journey
But soon it will be your own class room,
filled with your students,
and soon you’ll realize,
your education is just beginning.
Fifteen floors high
City lights in empty offices
Row after row of cubicles glow
under the auspices of what dissipation
do they toss dollars to the sky?
Just in time
One brief interlude
Honest and true
Necessary connections
Before departure
Intertwined arms
Release the endorphins and
Dopamine that make love.
As snow creeps down the mountain
I thread through the maze and take to the skies.
I’m only leaving you for a few days,
but my sighs reflect how bereft it is
to be on my own, far from the one who
makes my heart beat.
Far from you.
Every day you approach the computer
“What are we doing again?” I show you where to see the assignment. I review the expectations, the objectives, the criteria.
“Oh! Okay! I get it!” you say, and set to work.
The next day, we do it again.
Today you stare at me with blank, hollow eyes.
“I don’t get it,” you say.
Everyone else is busily working. You’ve been absent. When you come, you have to study for a test in another subject. Or see the counselor. Or help your friend. In fourteen hours of research time, you’ve been here for eight. Do you have anything to show for the time? Others have the list of the websites they consulted, pages of notes, excitement over how they’ll turn research into a presentation next week.
You have confusion.
The same confusion from the first day. Repeated again. Some days we can help you. Some days you are confident and productive.
But nothing stays in your memory more than an hour.
Other days you are sullen and oppositional, because you’re sure you’ve never seen this before, and you’re angry about it.
“This is stupid.”
What more can I do? I ask. They tell me your parents refuse to have you tested. They don’t want you to have a label, so we don’t know if this is a cognitive impairment, learning disability, or the results of drug use or a sports injury. A label comes with funding to give you the additional support you plainly need. Keep repeating expectations. Keep explaining the criteria. I agree. This is stupid.
The course is almost over and you return each day to week one, living a personal Groundhog Day loop,
and no one knows how to pull you out.
Keyboard clatter
Voices, laughter
Students research
secrets of the universe.
When Brianna asked why the Brits have such horrible toilet paper,
“Hearts of oak are our men,” Roger intoned, “stainless steel are their bums. It builds the national character.”
Diana Gabaldon in
Dragonfly in Amber
The government is loudly raving
school districts must search for savings!
As they replaced all our paper dispensers
with giant boxes, our sphinxters grew tenser
The paper that’s extruded, (please trust this fact)
is a complete and absolute pain on the ass.
We’ve had to get tougher as the years go by
but this toilet paper, with its single thick, crispy ply,
is taking it a step too far. If *Christie’s contract wasn’t enough,
You’re scraping us raw. Yeah. These days teaching is rough.
The government doesn’t seem to register
we don’t need to have stronger character!
.
true story 
* Christie Clark is the current Premier of BC, and former Minister of Education. Teachers dislike her for her destruction and defunding of education in BC.
They escaped from beneath the thumb of a Ugandan despot
Fleeing between gazes of men armed with machine guns
And appeared in my back alley. Brown skinned. Muslim.
My friend. My first love.
His soundtrack music now echoes from our TV screens.
They escaped from Soviet Russia during the brief window when
Jews were allowed to leave
And appeared in the junior high gym on the first day of school.
My best friend. Now in Geneva,
with the Humanitarian Commission for Refugees.
They escaped from Eritrea as it tore itself from Ethiopia
Newly weds running by night, sleeping through days
And appeared at my husband’s office, to defend children
Our good friends, first social work
Then labour mediator, helping opposites agree.
They’re escaping from Syria and the religious extreme,
Risking their lives for a chance of happiness and security.
Among the crowds, will we find
New friends making new lives
In our neighbourhood, where there’s safety?
.
.
I was pondering last night, that some of the most significant people in my life came to Canada as refugees. How different my life would have been had they remained in their home countries! While I would wish them never having to live the fear of their respective escapes, how blessed am I than Canada welcomed them, and how blessed is the country because of their labours here! They have each contributed greatly to society.
My mom’s first friend in her new community as a newly wed was a refugee from Germany who owned the apartment they rented as well as a business and other apartment buildings. I’ve taught students who were refugees from the civil war when Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia dissolved. Our country was not weakened by our welcome to these desperate people; it was strengthened.
Shawn L. Bird 