A Work Of Heart.

A Vanishing Work Of Heart.

In a sun baked, shabby classroom 

that's was made cozier yearly,

by an icon who would soon become 

a vanishing work of heart

.

Chasing dreams to split the seams 

of reluctant young minds

and fill them with the joy 

of what teaching imparts

In the scald of late summer, 

and through mid-winters gloom,

she is found there daily 

from August till June.

Whether pulling bus duty 

with the kids by the curb

or sharing witty blurbs to 

quell the boredom of verbs.

Leaving high school at sixteen 

and hungry for knowledge

she started teaching at twenty 

fresh faced out of college.

And not for the money 

it was a mere pittance then,

but for the sheer joy of 

sharing her education.

and her inspirations.

Helping struggling students 

with ways to be prudent

and praising them often when 

they showed great improvement.

For forty-three years t

hat did not go by quick

she has worked both with honors 

as well as kids with conflicts.

Bent over our table 

when school days were done 

spending hours grading essays 

often reading me one,

Great works from some 

youthful exuberance spent,

testimonies to some of 

the talents she'd lent

then delighted she'd mark it 100%.

Often staying after school 

to work on backloads,

or for discipline meetings, 

bullying and dress codes.

Working even on crutches, 

and through miserable colds.

fighting greed in the union 

that protected her rights.

Her true union's with students 

every day, many nights.

she has little time for

non-teacher's insights

Don't pretend you can govern

what teachers go through,

till you stand years 

in a classroom 

and do what they do.

All good teachers with tenure 

should be cherished most dearly,

they help guide younger teachers 

with  hard lessons learned yearly.

they've handled what 

worst case scenarios brought

hands on, in their classrooms, 

such skills can't be taught,

I could tell you some stories 

of the glory and grief,

that could casue resignations

and change your beliefs.

But she'll still show up daily 

regardless of costs,

cause she knows it's the students 

who will suffer the loss,

She's cried many nights 

because soon she'll retire,

and it's so hard to leave 

when you've still got the fire

 to teach and inspire.

it's the kids she will miss, 

it's that bond that is made,

that is severed forever 

to go sit in the shade. 

When her last class are seniors

 she'll be a senior too,

still holding great love 

for what she used to do.

Pat the back of a teacher, 

don't belittle the job,

and as it gets worse yearly 

it's the kids who'll be robbed,

How many young souls 

do you think will apply

for a teacher's certificate 

as time goes by,

if they whittle away 

at school budgets and pay,

I wonder who will be teaching 

my grandkids someday.

This poem is my tribute, 

cause I'm proud of my wife

she's reached hundreds of kids, 

sharing lessons for life.

Fighting school board decisions

and a principals wrath

she just turned back to teach

always taking the path

that would her kids glad...
giving them so muuch more
than other teachers they'd had.

The job holds little glory

and so many complaints

but when it comes to her teaching

she is one of the saints.