Teacher
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.
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Author's Note
Thoughts on another quiet day in the classroom.
Other stories by James Claffey
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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. *
Tables turned; used to be those gum thumbers feeling the prison. *
Nailed it, James. Some have called it education.
Honest thoughts and emotions *
No other words needed. We get it, even those of us who do not teach or go to school. *
And yes, stay safe.
We only went remote for a few months, but yes this.