A Poetic Look Back on the Last Week of School

Yesterday marked the end of the most exhausting week of an unusually exhausting year. Even the DQ employees noted that my mid-honors-field-trip-whimpering was more pathetic this year than in the past. And they would know, because a few of them have made the yearly trek with me as students.

But now the year is over and, after a few days of meetings and one quick trip to collect ideas from a tech-savy district in Oregon, summer vacation will begin.

When I left the school yesterday, the whole "summer break" think hadn't sunk in. This morning, I decided to write a poem about the last week in an attempt to get some sort of feeling of closure.

Why write a poem, you may ask? Well, I am a teacher of literature and writing... and therefore I cannot afford the actual therapy of which I am in desperate need.

The Last Week of School: A Poem by Miss H

The sun shone down,

The flowers bloomed.

The kids were thrilled,

But we were doomed

“Oh no!”we cried

“It’s far too soon,

The warm weather

Should wait till June!”

And why, you ask,

Did we lament

The nice weather

That we were sent?

Some disbelieve

Others may scoff

But sunshine makes

Young brains turn off!

Smart kids forget

All they have learned

All they want

Is class adjourned

Some squirm and shout

Some kiss and hug

Some limply sit

Like lifeless slugs

I prayed for rain

Pleaded for cold

So fewer kids

I’d have to scold

Some wind came

Temperatures dropped

But that squirreliness

It didn’t stop

The only cure

For year-end-pains

Is dampened sprits

From May rains

But while bad choices

Did abound

Not one raincloud
Could scarce be found

When finals were done

Grades all turned in

And students gone

Did the rain begin.

“Traitorous Storm!”
I shouted to

“Where were you when

We needed you?”

The pouring rain

Seemed to reply

“It’s for the best

That late, came I”

“Had the kids not

Turned into loons,

You would have missed

Them all by June”

“Think of all

The heartache saved

Because the kids

Have misbehaved”

So “think”, I did

And it was true

I won’t miss them

Till summer’s through

It was nature’s way

to prepare my heart

to say goodbye

to the little farts.

When fall begins

And school resumes

My love for them

Again will bloom

But for right now

As the rain drops fall

I’m thankful not

To miss them at all