Read. Write. Read. Write. Write. Write. Read.
Prepare. Second-guess. Fret. Be reassured. Reassure.
Think. Think. Think. Think. Think.
My friends barely know what I do.
“Are you working?”
“Are you teaching?”
“Are you in school?”
Why do they think I know?
Philosophies.
“Stop thinking that teaching to the test is a bad thing.”
“You could give them poo on a platter, and they’d comment eloquently on how poo-like it smelled.”
STANDARDS.
Parent panic.
Self-panic.
They see, they hear. Sometimes they understand.
Sometimes they give answers
to questions you haven’t asked.
Sometimes they ask you questions you never thought of.
Judged, judged, judged.
This is a year of judgement.
This is the first year of the rest of my life.
This is the year of the Hungry Caterpillar
and Hop On Pop.
This is the year I make myself responsible
for your child’s brain.
Now where did I put my own?
Ten Thousand Small Steps 