"Quality of Life" poem on teaching copyright 1999

Quality of Life




When my days are spent waiting

on white out to dry

And too nice kids to show some interest

in what they are learning

And when I am sorting through the sea of names in alphabetical order

with no faces (sardines in the factory of public education where the copying machine does not work.)

And when parents keep the teachers in apples

as if we are some sort of thoroughbred bringing them the garland--

Awarding the kids with pedigrees from the finest universities

(high SAT scores included)

When bumper stickers stating I have an honor student at WHS, a National

School of Excellence whiz through the parking lot while I stand in the rain holding my two briefcases and a cup of caffiene

And I wonder if I “touch the life of just one child” am I doing America

justice or if this is just another facade of American PTA-ism to keep

the haves from the have nots

"My honor student committed suicide" is many a parent's truth

And I ask, when administrators with walkie-talkies march past in too-tight

pantyhose

When they smile and say, “The class average is really 21 students per class;

when I know it is really thirty-plus so the coach can have an extra hour free (as if he ever did any work in the first place)

I ask-

Is this my quality of life? (I remind myself that the kids are really

nice.)