Saturday, January 16, 2010

I am teaching a class of pre school students, substituting for Iris P, the permanent teacher. I believe I was chosen because of unique, but undefined qualifications. Chatting at lunch, I discover that others of no talent have been given a similar job. Deflation and depression set in. But soon, I once more, become pleased with myself and my ability to charm a class of pre school students into focusing on reading Huckleberry Finn.

The children seem to be enjoying themselves. Iris then reappears and sends me on a field trip. I take about 30 children, accompanied by a group of parents. We spontaneously board a bus—that turns out to be an express. We try in vain to get off. Screaming and ringing the bell. We disembark miles from our destination.

We begin to walk back to school. The children wander into the street. I try to reach Iris by phone, but am unable to. “Help!” One by one, the parents leave. I am alone with the children, running from front to back of the line, attempting to move the kids on to the sidewalk. I fail, as the line snakes into traffic. Cars veer to avoid them. Finally, several kids are hit. An oncoming bus sends children flying. How will I report the incident? This is my main concern. I reflect back on myself, horrified. I wake up screaming, “KIDS!’’

..............(2 poems distilled from dream)

........................Children Walking

........................Middle of the road

........................Oncoming traffic

........................Children skipping

........................Oncoming traffic

.........................Inevitability looming

........Pride

worm emerges

seduced by the sun

toyed with

swallowed by

.................blue jay squawking

.................breast thrust

punt return specialist

reaches goal

beats chest

sambas on opponent’s back

..................fifteen yard

....................penalty assessed

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