Jun 4, 2016 Haiku, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Digambara
©June 3rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The trees judge all things.
Moral arbiters of men,
Breathing quietly.
The sky pouring light,
Cloud-blue, and indifferent,
Rolls around the earth.
Standing there, quite free
Shameless and glad, he drinks air,
The sky enfolds him.
Sky-clad, he stands tall.
Chancing upon him, in fright,
Woman and dog flee.
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Tags: #DailyPost, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Sky, #TheDailyPost
May 20, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Brick Shift
©May 20th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
You built your edifice
Brick by brick
You created the castle of you
Out of nothing, from nothing
You made your self a building
That sat on rich land, verdant
Lush with plants and trees,
Your castle housed attics and cellars,
Oh, and a damp dungeon,
Through which flowed a somnolent river,
Where you kept a sleeping creature
Fierce and fiery, long and spiny –
A creature you never visited,
But you knew lived and breathed
Down somewhere in the depths.
You built great halls and baths
Sleeping chambers, libraries
Turrets to look out from
And a moat around you.
And on the topmost tower,
You kept a phoenix, whom you loved.
Fire and water you loved,
And earth and air, too.
You fashioned for yourself
A world where they served you.
And the birds that wheeled around the tower
Sang songs and soared, but always returned,
For they were tethered to you.
Brick by brick by patient brick,
And stone and straw, too,
You built your edifice.
You saw for miles around,
You owned it all, celebrated all,
You saw that you could make your life
Whatever you wished it to be.
And so you did, so you did, for a time.
Ah, such folly! How far can you make life
Yield to you? How far can you shape your stones?
All one needs is one brick out of place, somewhere,
And the earth to shift beneath it all.
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In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Brick
Tags: #Brick, #DailyPost, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Feb 13, 2016 The Daily Post
Quoth the Teacher: Never Again!
©February 13th, 2016Dreamer of Dreams
Even as I write this, I hesitate. But this was MY life and reality for seventeen years, and I will write about it.
So, to what do I say Never Again?
Waking up at 6:20 a.m., frantically getting showered, dressed, coffee-d, and unbreakfasted (except for ten almonds) and ready for school, which begins at 7:30, an unholy time for a nightbird like me? Never again!
Hurrying down the hallways to the photocopier only to find five other teachers lined up before me, waiting to get their quiz or test or handout copies for the day done? Never again.
Staying after school to clean up, prepare a lesson plan, wipe surfaces, sweep up (most of the custodians did a shoddy job, so I simply pre-empted their efforts in my classroom by doing it myself), and put up student work? Never again.
Facing parochial, judgmental attitudes, and uncomprehending colleagues in a mostly white, Catholic, self-satisfied suburban school system? Never again?
Attending rambling, endless meetings, where a powerful few held sway and drowned out the rest? Never again.
Having rigid and pointless schedules to follow, schedules which didn’t allow for spontaneity? Never again.
Dealing with some bullying teachers, who didn’t see that the sign on their door (a slash through the word “Bully”) was completely ironic? Never again.
Staying up until 2:00 a.m., grading student assignments (many of which were written by my poor stressed-out, over-scheduled students to please their parents and teachers and achieve their elusive dream of getting good grades in eighth grade, in the hopes that this would advance them along the path to Harvard or M.I.T., or Yale)? Never again!
Having to chase down students who hadn’t done their work, in order to get something, anything in order to help them not get failing grades, because, otherwise, there was hell to pay from the system or from parents? Never again.
Having to deal with and defuse irrational hatred directed at me by certain, difficult students, to whom I was nothing but kind? Never again.
Having to deal with the double-handful of racist parents (and their mutely racist children) I have had over the course of my seventeen years of teaching? Never again!
Having to write reports for the special education students, whose I.E.P.s needed annual reports? Never again.
Having to adjust my tests to accommodate the needs of special education teachers, many of whom were simply covering their behinds, out of fear of legal repercussions? Never again.
Having to deal with prejudiced custodians, or disrespectful secretaries? Never again.
What I will miss, though:
- Teaching my students in the classroom (which I loved)
- Helping my students get better at reading and writing.
- Helping expand their consciousness with connections to art, psychology, anthropology and science in an English class.
- Running a Drama Club, writing a play and having brilliant students in it, many of whom have gone on to becoming playwrights, writers, actors and directors now, and who are still in touch with me.
- Running a Homework Club.
- Running a Poetry Club, and truly gifted “alternative” students come devotedly every week, and write poems, because they loved writing. Many of them still write beautifully, and have been published.
- Running the Green Team with dedicated, planet-conscious, environmentally-informed students, several of whom were also poets in my Poetry Club.
- Some of my dear colleagues, who’ve always cheered me up and on.
- Making bulleted lists. (Just kidding!)
Don’t get me wrong. I learned a lot being a brown-skinned, red-dotted, Indian teacher in a suburban school system. I made several good friends among my colleagues, who offset for me the deep rejection I experienced at the hands of others. I’ve taught almost 2000 students in my classroom over the years, and several others in my Poetry and Drama Clubs, and the Environmental Team. I was deeply fond of many of my students, and they were influenced by me. From them, I learned to be a better teacher. Observing my colleagues, I learned about how one should play the political game at school, although I didn’t play it. I learned that when the outside world threatens the world of teachers, they band together and protect each other. This can be a great thing. It can also be a terrible thing. I learned that if anyone in the teacher community has a personal setback or a disaster, all the other teachers help out. And I learned that everyone has sorrows and troubles, and therefore I must, for my own soul’s sake, forgive them their trespasses against me.
But I sure am glad that I never have to go there and teach again. I gave notice six months in advance, much to everyone’s surprise (because I had the school-teacher’s equivalent of “tenure” and I had name-recognition and respect in the larger community) — and left at the end of the teaching year, last June.
It felt as if a huge weight had rolled off my shoulders. I’ve been trying to walk straight since then, metaphorically.
And I’ve been recovering. It’s as if I’ve been through a protracted, debilitating illness. My brain’s turned fuzzy, and I have grief at irrational times. I feel damaged.
But I’m happy now, with my dearly beloved, loving husband, my beautiful, loving daughter, my beautiful, funny, loving dog.
I take walks in the woods on most days. I write a lot more. I’m singing and playing guitar again.
But will I teach again in public schools? I want to say, Never again! but one cannot truly say, Never again, can one?
But I will. And I won’t.
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Tags: #DailyPost, #Learning, #Teaching, public schools