When I Was A Young Teacher.

Up a few flights of stairs in the old high school,

on the way to my classroom, I listen to rain drum the sky light.

Years ago, when I was a young teacher, 

Barnes took us through the bell tower onto the roof.

I looked out over treetops and Black River,

in the city where I teach History, and

felt like I was accomplishing something,

beyond overcoming a mild sense of vertigo. 

Trees held onto their early green

while neighborhood kids ran through vacant lots 

playing tag. I watched from the edge 

knowing they'd be my students.

Today as the rain drums the sky light, 

my memory is drawn to that time 

when I was a young public school teacher,

and it was still something to be.