Waiting for the Fizzle

Don't misread that title. It does not say, Frizzle, as in the ultimate bus residing teacher of young children, Miss Frizzle. Aaah...Magic School Bus. I absolutely loved watching that show with my own children when they were smaller. I used it as a teacher now and then too.
It was the perfect--
indoor recess
three classes
crammed into one room
short,
captivating,
informative,
almost movie,
television show.

But Frizzle will need to wait. Today I hopped on my blog because I'm hosting slice of life and I knew I had a couple of drafts in my queue. I wasn't sure I'd use any, but I had not looked at them in a while. As I began to scroll, I realized I have over a dozen drafts. A dozen entry points with no exit or aaahs (sighs) at the end for closure. As I began to read through some of them, I realized why. Many have slices or cuts of what could be considered a negative tone, or in some cases a dose of reality. They span from the end of July to the end of October.

One in particular, as I read it, restruck a cord. I remembered writing it and the feelings I was having at that moment. I remember deciding not to post it because it seemed like too much. Too harsh. Like I was waiting for the feeling to fizzle so I could come back and read it with fewer charged emotions.

I don't remember the trigger. Could have been a tweet, a comment, a moment. Regardless, I'm so glad I wrote it down because it was one of those bursts of emotion splattered out. One of those feelings that are not actually a singular feeling but a mixture of so many it had to go somewhere.

My concern with posting earlier was plagued with the thoughts of people feeling it was teacher shaming, or mean. When I read it now, I feel like I can say, with clarity, it is not meant to shame anyone. If anything, it is meant to make one think, or maybe throw their fist up in unity, or possibly ask a question. Below is the post which also happens to be a poem.

 (Title-less)

Our beliefs may not be shared beliefs, 

but we are all sharers of responsibility.

The shaping of individuals

deciding what to be. 

Teaching is a creative act. 

It is one,
us

woven into them,
you.

We get to be part of it.

So I question, the person acting as a teacher? 

Is this your show? Director in chief?

Task manager in the wings?

Are you the best actor for an audience of laborers?

Is this your monologue:

"You should want to work for me. 

I am only here for you. 

Just swallow the bitter pill. 

Don't ask why with your dry mouth.

Take your drill and skill medicine. 

I haven't seen you smile with gratitude

for my selflessness yet."

I am not the best teacher. 

I do not claim to be the winner of all rubrics and the scorer of all points.

I am not.

I do not wish to be.

If I were, I wouldn't have anything left to learn.

If I were 

I'd be you.