Teaching is hard work, don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Sometimes I get pretty wrapped up in that work and am kind of am amazed, when I pop my head out, that the world has gone on despite my "absence." Yesterday, I was struck by how this little bee was so busy all day doing what it does while I was busy doing what I do.
leafcutter bee
while i taught
children tossed about
in pandemic seas
and vitriol,
a leafcutter bee
filled the water spigot
with tiny disks cut from the
black raspberries growing
at the forest edge.
all day we navigated our treacherous
journey while she flew back and
forth carefully folding each leaf
into a small chamber
prepared with a package
of pollen and a single egg,
provisions for a future others
will inherit. is this what
it means to hope?
-- steve peterson
Steve, this is a stunning poem: unsettling line breaks for the classroom, precise and patient descriptions for the bee's provisioning, a needle-sharp question. Entertain impostor syndrome not one second longer, my friend.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading and offering such terrific, precise comments! So cool! I was hoping to make the teaching parts seem storm-tossed and bee parts seem single-mindedly persistent. I'm hoping that single-mindedly persistent is enough, but I'm not sure...
DeleteSteve, the contrast here is striking, even though both you and the bee are embodying hope. Such great details--the water spigot, the disks of leaf, the single egg...Fabulous!
ReplyDeleteYou totally nailed the chaos of the teaching and the single mindedness of the bee (plus, as always, you taught me something about nature)! That question. Oh my heart. Teaching as an act of hope for the future...YES. Just as much as the bee's single egg.
ReplyDeleteprovisions for a future others/will inherit-hope set against pandemic seas and vitriol-Yes, I too, love the contrasts. I choose HOPE!
ReplyDelete