Where are the wads of gum thumbed to the undersides of ancient desks, each crusted barnacle evidence of a bored teenager? Where are the pencils stuck in polystyrene ceiling tiles? Pacing the empty room, Zoom tiles like alphabetized gravestones to a lost year. Alone, my own prisoner, peering through the bars of the windows at the overgrown school garden and empty chicken coop.
Very effective.
You got it. Stay safe.
A sliver from the core, James. Nicely done. A haunting moment: "Pacing the empty room, Zoom tiles like alphabetized gravestones to a lost year." *
As a teacher who is in-person, I’d almost be envious of your position...but that last line broke my heart just a little. *