“You’ve Got Mail” is one of my all-time favorite movies. It’s why I believe daisies are the friendliest flowers. I can quote most of the movie in my sleep. And in the words of Joe Fox, “Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms.”

I know we haven’t quite yet hit pumpkin spice season, but many of my teacher friends are already working on getting back into the classroom. My post this week is both in honor of my time as an educator and my people who are still going back to school every August.


I am a teacher

which, by definition, means

(I instruct)

for a calling

for a paycheck

for a hobby


I am a teacher

which, by experience, smells

like (being surrounded)

swimming every day (from 8-3)

in a sea

between islands of body odor

(and wet paint)


I am a teacher

which, by vocation, feels

like I am among old children

miniature men (with mouse voices)

clown girls

with (new-found) melons

burgled beneath their sweaters


I am a teacher

which, by location, places (me)

among historical dictators

who dream up novels

(while mowing the lawn)

Spanish senoras

who use homecoming as an excuse

to play with a (Katniss Everdeen)

bow and arrow

English professors

who (in their “spare” time)

climb (and move) mountains


I am a teacher

I plant (the dreams of)

a changed world

in the (fertile) hearts

of adolescence


I am a teacher

(part fashionista)

part carnival stilts climber in heals

I heard cats (known as teenagers)

for a career


I am a teacher

with steel-clad bladder

and Mr. Fantastic arms

that can hold five people at once


I am a teacher

I bake

I counsel

I harvest

pulling from (their branches)

another bushel

of (poisoned) apples

One thought on “Pencil Bouquet Season

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