Bad Day

I had one of those days today when you cry on your way to work and you cry on your way home. This morning, I was listening to the words from "Idea #21" by Over the Rhine and I got all teary-eyed because I'm impatient for justice and peace. And then I thought about my job and how I have this amazing opportunity and responsibility to foster peace and justice with young minds and young hearts and that just gets me all jazzed up to walk in from the parking lot and into my classroom. I can't wait to hurl Salinger, Vonnegut, Bradbury, Angelou, and Bronte at unsuspecting students revealing truth, beauty, and the journey of humanity.

And then I told my students to shut up.

Student: Mrs. Pete, I have a question

Me: teacher glare

Same student: Mrs. Pete, do I have to write this down or can I just think about it?

Me: I don't want to talk to you right now.

It was hot in the computer lab today and they were being so obnoxious. And they didn't care one little bit about truth, or beauty, or about humanity. At least not at 12 PM today. I couldn't teach them anything. They couldn't hear me. So, I told them to shut up. And I tear myself up because telling someone to shut up is not fostering peace and it's certainly not showing them how to "use their words."

My coworker came down later in the afternoon and I confessed my sins. She reminded me that I'm human and I vowed to be nicer to myself. I got home to find a Real Simple magazine and a letter from a good friend with a copy of the poem "Messenger" by Mary Oliver from her book Thirst. Bibliotherapy I tell you. The first line of Oliver's poem took me back to the excitement I felt getting out of the car this morning, "My work is loving the world." It reminds me that my work is to love the world and love isn't always perfect, it's not always kind, it's not always patient, but it tries to be. So I'll try again tomorrow. And hopefully I'll be "astonished" by how much my students teach me about truth, beauty, and humanity. I'll try to stand still. I teach high school.

Messenger

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird
--equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half
perfect? Let me keep my mind on what
matters, which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a
heart and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy
dug-up clam,telling them all, over and
over, how it is
that we live forever.