It’s quiet in the mornings
Before the student rush
The call to prayer
That first light glare
Lesson planning: final brush.
School’s first moments: greet the guard
Collect my prints and copies
Store the extras, check for pens
And head out from the office.
In the classroom, students coming
A bell, the rush begins
Complaints and grumblings
Near sleep stumblings
And sometimes even grins.
The classes fly, the papers pile
Grading is never done
We do our tasks one at a time
As upwards climbs the sun.
Sixth period now, I’ll take my break
And join the students’ chatter
Try making friends
As formality bends
This usually ends in laughter.
Final dismissal, sometimes I wonder
Who wants that bell the most?
The students go flying
Mid-sentence, thoughts dying
Naught left in classroom but ghosts.
Ghosts to be graded, sorted and filed
My focus dissolves to a nap
I get it all done
But not with the sun
Near ten, I’ll say “that’s a wrap”.
If you’re wanting a little adventure
I’d suggest “go to the moon”
But if here is your place
Then take up His grace
Get up! Run the race!
He’ll be back soon.
We could sure use your help (we need teachers!)
Expect maddening ridiculous fun.
Ask Him, “Is this where You’re leading?”
Pick up His grace! Get up. Run!
