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The Teacher
a dream narrative
I saw you as I came up over
the hill,
pushing my bicycle.
It was the end of the day,
and the big boys
had already invaded
the school grounds, taking
over the cement courts
with their rough games,
shouting and cursing
at one another.
I had to make my
way through the
to reach you.
It was dusk , and for a
moment, I was afraid.
Then I saw you there
on the next court,
towering over your
students. You were angry
at them but keeping
your temper - I could
hear it in the tone of
your voice as you
said, "No, honey"
to the one who had failed
to follow your directions.
You explained it again.
You saw me as I came
closer, but your concentration
held, and you continued
to teach, patiently, the
last lesson of the day. They
held, too, your little charges,
trying their hardest for
you, though they were
tired, and ready to go
home.
At the end you
called them all together
and had them sit on
the lawn all around
you. As I watched
you, I thought of
a tree, tall and solid,
an oak, casting its
gentle shadow over
a grove of saplings, their
growth palpable in the
heavy air.
I could hear the easy
rustle of leaves, and feel
the cool orange of
the setting sun.
One of the children came
and sat beside me. She smiled
up at me, as though
I were one of them, and
then turned to listen
to you.
You told them how well they
had done, and what they would
do tomorrow, and then
you dismissed them. One
by one they drifted
away, some quickly, moving
on without a backward
glance, others strolling
away together in
chattering groups, their
fatigue forgotten. A few
stayed on to talk to
you about one thing
or another. You
stayed until the last
one had heard all
she needed, careful and
patient till the
end. Then you
patted her lightly on
her shoulder and laughed.
She turned and walked
away, clearly comforted.
It was only then that
you acknowledged me. Only
then that you looked,
for a moment, tired,
as you put your hands
in your pockets, and
walked toward me
and my bicycle.
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