Can She Teach?
She listens, she dares, she hopes,
She dreams, she fails, she mopes.
Writing, typing, thinking, drawing,
Outside Autumn leaves are falling,
She wonders, “can I cope?”
Blinding headaches, eyes blood-red,
Too many tears being shed.
Paperwork, books, lack of sleep,
More and more of counting sheep,
Why does she ignore her bed?
She wants to teach, but can she,
Master the heutagogy?
Critical thinking, better word power,
Knowledge locked in a faraway tower,
How could she lose the key?
Winter blues have made her sad,
Christmas songs should make her glad.
She sobs, “I have projects to complete,”
With tedious drafts to delete,
Is she driving herself mad?
Roll on, roll on, Spring and Summer!
For soon this will all be over.
Training, learning, weeping, living,
Giving, feeling, loving, forgiving,
Does she know she teaches with composure?
S. E. Fenney