I watch my students
click and decide
if I am a good teacher.
My voice is now silent,
so I try to stir them using only my mind
(but I don’t see anything happening).
I think about what I did
and what I didn’t
and wish I had a few do-overs
until my aching head
reminds me what a bad idea
that would be.
So I tell myself
“It’ll be alright–
or if not, it doesn’t matter (eternally).”
I don’t really listen to myself
any better than my students do.
So it comes down to the fruits of a thousand hours,
being placed in four bins to produce one number.
Pretty coarsely-weighed for so dear a harvest.