Good morning!

Usually, there is no reply.

Those bratty kids who treat me like a servant,

Looking down at me,

Even though I am an adult,

And their lives are in my hands.

Don't misunderstand, please.

Some of them do greet me.

Make me feel that I'm not insignificant,

That I am not a tool to be used and then thrown away.

I try to be nice.

But those kids in the back,

They yell, scream, and make messes.

It's impossible to play good cop forever.

Coffee spills on the floor

Staining it a dark brown.

Two hours to clean.

They don't even say sorry.

I wonder if those kids,

Those kids who disrespect and lie.

I wonder what they'll be in the future.

I'm thinking hard.

What's it like, being a teacher like that?

One who doesn't hesitate to hand out detentions, who never lets us stray from the task at hand, even if we're already done with it.

Does she feel bad?

Does she ever put herself in our shoes?

I don't think so.

I would never be able to do that to children.

Or would I?

Let's see.

I enter the classroom in the morning. I've graded the Ancient Rome tests, I've prepared the lesson plans for today. The detention slips are already in my hand as the first students walk in.

"Good morning, Brendon, Alex, Jorge," I greet slowly, dangerously as they approach their seats. They afeardly greet back.

I start the lesson when all the students are here. I tell them about China's geography, the technology of ancient times, and how civilizations interacted with China.

Then I put them to work, watching over them with an eye like an eagle. One student is talking to her friend.

"Rachie?"

Rachie turns around, eyes wide in fear.

"Detention, darling. Focus on your work, please." I smile. It's not a nice smile.

Maybe I could be her one day.

I woke up today and rolled over to your side of the bed.

If I close my eyes and try really hard, I can still smell you;

the faint scent of sawdust mixed with the cleanliness of Irish Spring.

Today is Father's Day and I don't know how to react...

My two beautiful, grown daughters lost their Dad in February

to a cancer that just a year ago had started to engulf his body.

It took him so fast that we had no idea last year

that at this same time he would be gone.

Decades of traditions are rendered past notions so quickly

and I feel the sting of loneliness as other families celebrate.

My heart aches for the once monotonous task of card shopping

and my brain fantasizes about your face while you read

the quirky, funny card from our oldest and

the sentimental one from our youngest- which always

brought a bit of grateful moisture to your eyes...

The only tears that are shed now are in your memory

and I wish I could tell you all of this in person.

We love you, Steve. And miss you more than we can ever say.

Happy Father's Day.

I couldn't find a way to justify my teacher since I could never read her thoughts, so I just made her sound terrible. Oops.

______________________________________________________________

The first bell rang, and my early birds entered the room, struggling to carry their heavy binders and textbooks. I smiled to myself, and made a mental note to commission yet another unnecessary textbook to their load. They needed the exercise, the skinny little string beans.

Students continued to trickle in throughout the next few minutes. The second bell rang. I didn't bother starting the lesson yet, but instead, I prepared my detention slips. John rushed in 27 seconds later. 27 seconds. A new record for him. I walked over to him as he sat down, and slid a signed detention pass to him. He shrunk into his seat with a sigh. Mrs. Lilith, the current detention room overseer, was always accompanied at lunch by at least one of my students. She was a lonely and sullen woman, so I told myself that I was doing her a favor.

A few students had noticed the black piece of construction paper taped over the clock. Being able to tell the time was the basic human right of the privileged. So I took it away from them. That way, they wouldn't be able to pack their things five minutes before the bell. I introduced this method to my class formally, and they stared at me as if I were insane. Many of them groaned, four of them panicked, and one of them looked ready to kiss his watch. It was amusing.

I instructed my students to place their homework in the basket at the front of the room. Most of them did so. A few of them quickly checked it over, and I noticed the look of horror on three of the student's faces when they realized that they forgot to fill out the bonus question at the very bottom of the page. In my class, the word "bonus" was synonymous with the word "mandatory". I smiled thinly, "Speak to me after class if your homework is incomplete. And yes, if you didn't fill the bonus out, it's incomplete."

I headed to the front of the class and turned the Smartboard on, a PowerPoint already set up. I could hear the faint mumble of two of my students talking. "I could turn this off and hand you a worksheet, you know," I said after a brief pause of silence. That shut them up. I'd give the class the worksheets for homework anyway.

I went through the PowerPoint, clicking away with my remote control and pointing to important details with my laser pointer. My commentary was monotone, and was practiced in a way that would convince my students that every word I spoke was fact and not opinion.

The bell rang, and I handed out the homework for the day and detention slips to students who neglected to finish their homework. Another successful day. I was sick of this job. Over twenty years of it, and never any appreciation or respect. I even had to open a "complaint department" in the summer just so my students would stop complaining until then. Not to mention I didn't get paid nearly enough.

Today is my birthday.

I've been feeling absent-minded for a few weeks now, and though I didn't want to tell anyone, I kinda lost the ability to communicate. Oh sure, I can give one or two-word replies, but I just can't seem to form a real sentence.

What was I saying?

Ah, yes. B dropped me off at my ex's house, so I can spend the day with my daughter. I had a doctor's appointment first though. S, my oldest, agreed to take me, so B could go home and rest. S can be such a mother hen! Asking me all kinds of questions that make no sense! Even when I got mad at her, she wouldn't relent.

Then, the doctors and their gibberish. I never could understand half the crap they said before, so how can they expect me to answer now? They don't even give me a chance to think about it!

It's my birthday and I had to have a CT scan done.

We took care of it in the morning so S and I could do some shopping, food, maybe a movie.

I hardly ever get to see S. Well, we do have a dinner night once a week. M, my ex, is one for routine. When our other daughter, Sm was still here, she moved to North Carolina in April, M started the weekly dinner, so I could see the girls regularly. I'm happy that Sm is on her own and making a life with her boyfriend. He's going to be a doctor. But what's going to happen when they have children? Will I be able to see my grandchild? Why did they have to move so far away? It's not like S is going to give me any grandchildren. 29, and never been kissed. It's like she has no interest in men. She's like a hermit. Except for work, she doesn't have any human interaction. Well, except for her father. S is the female version of M, except she has no social skills whatsoever. Grandchildren. Am I ready to be a grandmother?

We received a call from Urgent Care a few hours later, telling me to immediately return. We did return, but still had to wait over an hour to be seen! I almost walked out. Why should I waste my birthday in a waiting room?

And why are we here anyway? Where are we?

"S. You okay?"

Ugh. It's getting harder to understand! Why are you talking so jumbled?

What is going on?!

More nonsensical questions from these quacks.

"Look! I'm. Tired."

Why was that so hard to say?

Finally, we got to leave!

But when we got to S' house, she motioned me to stay in the car! What is going on?

I really like this car. It's obviously new. I wonder whose car it is? It can't be M's. He doesn't like small cars. He made me buy my SUV. Oh wait. M can't drive anymore. Damn his eyes! I never imagined he'd lose his sight! Yes, his oldest brother is blind, but M is fifth out of six, and none of the others have a problem!

Just my luck; after all we've been through.

I know he did everything for me, but when we found out he was going blind, he got so needy and demanding! And losing his job at the Post Office! I just couldn't take it. And don't expect me to do everything! I had to get out of there! I knew, when he said we should divorce, that that was my ticket out. So what if I twisted his words and made him feel guilty? He should!

Truth be told, I was tired of him anyway. I had long fallen out of love, but stayed because I felt stuck. Well, the girls were both adults, so I did my duty! Time for me!

Hey! There's S! I like her new car. Why is she carrying a backpack?

I hope we can go eat now.

Oh S, I nod because I don't have a clue what you're saying.

S looks pretty stressed out. I wonder why?

Today is my birthday. Let's do something fun!

I wish my daughters didn't have such an aversion to touch. I want to reach out and comfort S. She's talking a mile a minute, which is what she does when she's scared. Why are you scared S?

I wish I could ask her!

Wait. Emmer like?

I thought we were going to my favorite restaurant. Didn't I say it enough times?

Hold on! This is the hospital! Why are we here?

"S! Okay?"

Why can't she be a little more patient? Can't she see that I'm having a hard time understanding?

"No. Let's. Eat."

Oh, for heaven's sake! Fine. Stop yapping at me! My head hurts.

Don't they understand that B is supposed to be picking me up soon?

Well, they better call him.

Here we go again. Gibberish and gibberish questions. This is ridiculous!

Alright! Alright. Where are we going now?

A room?? Are you kidding me?? And I have to wear that humiliating robe??

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!

Ah. The emmer like thing again. I caught the doctor saying that.

Poor S. Look at her, trying to be strong.

Why am I here? I hate hospitals!

And why isn't M here??

He should be! He's my husband!

Oh, wait. Divorce.

More waiting.

I see S nodding off, but what can I do?

Hey! There's B! Hi B! I give him a big smile, but he just turned away, as S did her rapid fire explanation of our day. B held me a moment, and kissed my forehead, but rose and stepped back. He was leaving!

I know he has to go to work soon, working the night shift.

My eyes are burning. Stupid hospital chemicals.

At least I can watch some TV.

Happy birthday to me...