Like a Butterfly

i.
I would try to write only the things
that are changing in this season of movements
and winds. I would try to write
how it is always gray in my room, no matter
if the sun shines elsewhere. In this not-dawn,
I slip to the bottom edge of the bed, trying not to creek
out onto the floor because you are curled, hunchback
in this matchbox of a room. Luckily,
you do not complain and I leave you behind
to start my day. This is strange for me
because I did not imagine myself a butterfly.

ii.
My father grows older and wider,
and I simply grow. I cannot explain
how strange it is to watch him grow winded.
I thought growing meant positive differences
but he grows cancerous and closer
to the grave. It is not depressing, just factual
and I do not know why people look at me
with melancholy eyes when I remark as such.

iii.
It used to be strange to watch people fucking
on television or the movies. Mostly, I felt awkward
because wouldn't everyone rather be reading?
Now, I feel empowered to watch a woman
curl shrimp-like next to a man, knowing what
will come next. He hovers over her like a net,
waiting to catch all of her.

One Week Down

Officially, the nuggets have been "mine" for five class days. They're cute and smart. But they're also needy and clingy and curious and overwhelming at times. I panicked a bit on Tuesday and Wednesday, fell asleep at 8 pm on Wednesday and calmed down on Thursday. Spent Thursday night with SR and her boyfriend. I realized I talked too much about work, about E [all names are not being used, in the event that at SOME point some child stumbles across this. I, apparently, think too highly of myself] and her note, or needy parents.

Then I spent the weekend with SAI in Michigan, watching football, walking and enjoying the very beginnings of fall, just she and I. Her apartment has soft light and open country windows. She overlooks pine trees. Although there is something mythical about those broad shoulders and those huge steel beams, the lights and the traffic and the loud when I walk out of CA's apartment or the people, always the people and the sticky leaves and barking dogs and constant shouting around my apartment, there was something strangely soothing about being able to hear nothing but the natural inhale and exhale of crickets or other animals [we know I'm not up on Nature, with a capital N.] Although I drove back on Sunday, I'm still confused if I actually had a weekend because at 530 this morning, I was up and at it again.

There was something strange about pulling into a parking space this evening, after spending the day saying, "D, that doesn't go in our mouth," or "A, I need to see your eyes on me." Or, in the eighth grade, going over, and over, and over how we pass the ball for doing discussion circles. There was something strange about being the one in control, about knowing how to use the copy machine. About being the one who people watch. I was introduced at a board meeting tonight as "the Harvard graduate." Apparently, the head of middle school makes it a policy to only hire top-20 school teachers. All of the hires in the past 3-5 years are from UMichigan, Yale, Columbia, U of C, Northwestern, Harvard etc.

But there's something wonderful about shaking peoples' hands and saying, "Yes, I'm Ms. R," or knowing that I am responsible for someone's learning. I feel like I could do good things. Tomorrow morning, I have my nuggets from 8 am until 1150. It's straight. And I'm sure it will be exhausting. We're reading the Golden Compass together, so I'm going to have them do a drawing activity, because they keep asking me what Lyra looks like. We've not gotten a description of her yet, and I want them to imagine. They've been amazing at imagining.

I spent a lot of time reminding people of how we need to act; it feels so hypocritical in a way, because I, too, am not perfect. I have a to-do list a mile long and god only knows when any of it is going to get done. Instead of doing the responsible thing, I am flittering away to Las Vegas this weekend. It feels wrong, almost, to run away. I know there's so many of these kids who need so much.

I needed so much at one point too. We all did, and we all do. Tomorrow, CA arrives back from Spain. It feels like so long since I've seen him, I practically cannot believe that I, soon, will get to spend solid time with him, taking pictures and feeling a part of something. The strange thing is so many places and with so many people I know I am a part of something right now. I'm still working on it, and still explaining and still feeling like they're trying to hold me accountable for more than I can handle.

But, in a way, it's time to step up. I have a car; I commute to work. I wear dress pants and have a huge pile of clothes that need to go to the cleaners. It's how it rolls. We're adults now, or something close to it. So, I guess that means I need to keep rolling with it. I spent the afternoons riding home with MD, discussing how few hours there are until we're back there again. But, like he said to me, "I keep wondering 'What's next?' And I guess this is what's next. It makes sense to be here." Which, when I'm looking across my desk at my co-teacher, LM, or realizing that I do, infact, talk too much about my nuggets, it makes sense. I should be here.

Gin Poem

If I could, I would buy you all the gin
in the world. It lets you know
that I think about you when doing things

like pushing a squeaky cart through
the grocery isle. Through the stickiness
of the floors, I watch the symmetrical patterns
roll past and think of the way

your eyes line up perfectly, even though
I read in Time magazine that
we are slightly asymmetrical. You try
not to be, though, and so for the entire day

I try to make things even. I buy you gin
and diet coke, so you have things to drink
when you curl up into a small corner
of my threadbare couch, waiting for me to come
and make the other end balanced.

You called me your seesaw, and I watch you blink
over and over through those long lashes
and perfectly alligned eyes. I didn't listen
because I was watching, and you moved
to grab a bottle of water, because it, and red bull,
were the only things I had

at the time. I move quickly, and need things
to keep up with me. But you pull my hips
into you and whisper quietly, wetly, in my ear
so I have to slow down, and match your rising and falling chest
in order to listen. You grow your hair long,
measuring against your collarbone. I keep mine short,
because I can put on a suit and shower
in ten minutes. On my first day of work,
you move my tie three centimeters. They might notice

you say. But you are the only one
who takes the time to look.

Nuggets Tomorrow

Um. Not good without communication. Who would have thought it was possible to miss? I am thinking the next few lines of the first poem I've written in like 3 weeks is going to begin:

The cold came easily that winter.
It was easy to be susceptible
because we had not become yet
what we were meant to become.

I'm not sure what to do with it. But, I like it.

Children come tomorrow. I was at school for a couple of hours this morning, laying down the cute rug I got at Target yesterday with AR. I also, FINALLY, purchased a real swimsuit for Vegas. It's not quite so bad, but it's in the pink and gingham pattern. However, I'm actually comfortable in it, which is what's really important.

Although I'm nervous for my students, I got this email from my mom this morning:
Just wanted to wish you GOOD LUCK tomorrow. I know you will do your best and your best always means you will come out a winner. Enjoy your day with your nuggets and let me know how it goes.
Love, mom
That plus the encouraging text messages from my dad always help. It's going to be fine, really. I've reached the point of simple acceptance of what it's going to be like--if it's bad, then it's bad and there's not a whole heck of a lot I can do about it. If it's good, then fantastic. I'm just going to do what I need to do.

MD and I were completely paranoid today in the car, thinking about how early we're going to have to get up tomorrow. So, after working, I went to brunch with KF, and enjoyed myself ... reminding myself that life is what it is and if it goes well, then awesome. If it goes badly, then... we'll see what we can do about it. But, it's going to go well. I'm promising myself.