Schools

The insistent ringing
The bleating bell
The constant chatter of the office.

The unfinished story, anecdote, sentence
Hangs for hours in the air
To be snagged in the off moment and half-finished
While the parents parade on and on.

With the snacks and lunches and the backpacks
Forgotten in the car, on the bench, in the front room
With stories of their delightful children and their
Endearing ways too numerous to mention.
Or their sad lamentations of forgetfulness
Of the parents of course, never the children.
Ruefully smiling, acknowledging that of course, it was
The children, but they're not to blame.

And the phone again rings and rings
Of children sick, or just simply staying home
Or the questions of safety duty, lunch duty, lunch selections,
Time of after school activities, during lunch activities and
The amount of time needed to get them to CCD.

The teachers are asking for their renewed schedule
their forgotten duties, their students home phone numbers.
And are we ordering out today? How much is that? What time will it arrive?
And are the pickles on the side?

The children stream into the nurses' office with
Lost and loose teeth, bloody noses, bruised skin and egos.
Parading past with assistants who need copies and schedules, too.

Did I miss this? Yes, surprisingly I did. As I trudge
Up the steps once again, as I did 7 plus years ago
Carrying papers, news, help and a smile or two.
But I will be denied it once again apparently.
Moving on to older students who don't need you to care
Just to make sure you don't get in their way.
Who will mow you down with a brief nod in your direction
Which is supposed to suffice for an apology.
They won't need the parents satellites as much, but they will
Need texting priviledges. They won't need a hug, but they
Would like it if you knew the answer to number 4 on the Math Quiz.

How different will it be, I wonder.
How much will be the same? Starting again and yet not.
I wonder. I wonder.