a certain slant of light.

Sometimes it feels as if no one realizes it's time to say goodbye. The drifting out of the classroom makes complete sense to them; the passing through the door is part of everyday. They won't turn back; it should be that way. I won't turn back either.

( I always do. )

Exams bring: furrowed brows, broken pencil tips, creased paper, shuffling feet.

Later: Paper strewn in the hallways.

Later still: Caps and gowns.

It's been an interesting year. I think I'm ready for the wind-down. Last night, I stayed up late, staring at the computer screen, wondering at this last exam I'll write (for a while?), hoping they'd do well, crossing my fingers for those borderline cases.


I wish I had something brilliant to say in these last few days here. I'm simply looking forward. I'm not just thinking about the MFA but about the summer: Kelly's baby, our CSA membership, camping, this mysterious cross country trip we have only vaguely discussed.

I am ready for my life to continue, ready for the next step. Teaching high school has been good, actually, and despite a few strange occurances and surprises, teaching this past year hasn't been terribly shabby. I've grown fond of the little buggers and I'll miss them. There's so much I won't miss, but I ought not focus on that, unless it's in celebration of moving on.