Skip to main content

A School House Dream (September 21, 2026)

I sat beneath the canopy of a coconut tree, my eyes wandering aimlessly through the midday heat, searching for something to anchor onto. The school courtyard felt strangely distant. When a student brushed past, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, I offered a quiet hello. He paused, looking suddenly ashamed, as if caught in a place he shouldn't be. "Hey," I said softly, "could you pull up a chair for me?" He muttered a hurried promise to wait, spun on his heel, and ran away, vanishing into the shadows of the corridor. He never came back.

An unsettling chill began to settle over me. I stood up and walked toward the breezeway, leaning against a concrete post to steady myself. When a fellow teacher walked by, I met her eyes and offered a warm smile, hoping for a sliver of camaraderie. She passed me like a ghost, her face completely expressionless, refusing to give me even a fleeting glance.

Swallowing my confusion, I nodded to the empty air and walked toward the main office. I passed a group of school staff, but my greeting was met only with heavy, unblinking stares. As soon as I passed, they leaned into each other, their voices dropping into sharp, cruel whispers.

Driven by a growing sense of desperation, I hurried to the principal’s office. I stepped inside and forced a gentle smile, silently begging for a shred of normalcy. He sat behind his desk, entirely silent. He didn't speak. He didn't nod. He just stared through me with cold, hollow eyes.

A wave of profound sorrow washed over me, heavy enough to bring me to tears. Why? I asked myself, the question aching in my chest. What is wrong with everyone today? Why are they treating me like an outcast? Why is there so much unprovoked dislike?

Desperate for sanctuary, I retreated toward my classroom. On the way, a student collided heavily with my shoulder. He didn't stumble, he didn't look back, and he certainly didn't say sorry. It was as if I had become completely invisible, yet somehow still a target for their scorn.

Finally, I slipped through the threshold of my classroom and collapsed at my desk, burying my face in my arms to hide from the cold world outside.

Then, a soft rustle broke the silence.

I lifted my heavy eyelids. The hallway's oppressive gloom was gone, replaced by the familiar, sunlit room. Gathered close around my desk were my students, their faces bright and etched with genuine concern.

"Teacher, are you tired? Did you fall asleep?" one of them whispered gently.

Almost in unison, the rest of the room erupted into a chorus of familiar, beautiful voices: "Good afternoon, Teacher! How are you today?"

The heavy knot in my chest instantly dissolved. I looked at their bright, smiling faces, let out a long breath, and whispered a quiet prayer to myself: Thank God. Thank God it was only a dream.

  

My Written Poem

Beneath the quiet shade of coconut trees,
My eyes drifted aimlessly into the air,
A passing student ignored my warm pleas,
Running from a request for a simple chair,
Leaving me stranded in the midday breeze.

I stood by the post where the shadows grow,
Greeting a colleague who hurried right past,
She gave me no look, no nod, and no hello,
Into a cold silence my spirit was cast,
Walking to the office with heavy steps,

The staff only stared with a piercing glare,
Whispering secrets as I drifted on by,
The principal sat in his motionless chair,
Watching me coldly without a reply,
Leaving me drowning in sudden despair.

I wanted to weep as the cruelty grew,
Wondering why they all pushed me apart,
A student bumped past me and gave no excuse,
Heavy with sorrow and sick in my heart,
I fled to my classroom to hide my frustration and tears.

Then a soft chorus broke through the dark deep,
My students stood smiling around my own desk,
Asking so gently, "Did you fall asleep?"
Their sweet "Good Afternoon" ended the test,
And I thanked God for the peace I could keep.

 


Popular posts from this blog

A Poem For all Ages - MGS

I write a poem that makes the world see,    a woven thread wherein hearts can be free. I write a poem that older folks feel,    echoes of wisdom, truth that is real. I write a poem that the youngsters think,   a spark of imagination, a vibrant ink. I write a poem that made the world known,   in verses and stanzas, our stories are sown. I write a poem that makes the world blue,   a reflection of sorrow, a true glance. I write a poem that makes the older folks cry,   for memories cherished and moments gone by. I write a poem that makes youngsters mourn,   for dreams that have faded and hopes that are torn. I write a poem to make the world healed,   with love as the balm and compassion revealed. I write a poem to make the world smile,    a gentle reminder to pause for a while. I write a poem to make the older hope,   a bridge to the future, a way to cope. I write a poem to mak...
Read more

Plate Of Plenty

If you don't feel like eating, think of them! This photo has so much pain. 😒 Food is life, but brain fog for an ungrateful heart.  If you don't like what's on your plate,  don’t toss it aside, don’t seal its fate.  Each morsel holds a story, a journey begun, A  gift from the earth, a battle won.   Imagine a morning when the table is bare,  what will you do when hunger calls loud, No bread, no fruit, just an empty stare.  The abundant meals and the warmth of a feast, All vanish in silence and hunger unleashed.  When a pantry is empty, and your stomach aches.   Don't dare to wish!  So, before you discard what you do not desire, think  of the hands that toiled, the hearts that inspire.  Each bite is a blessing, a chance to reflect on  those who have little, on lives we protect.  So, savor the flavors, let gratitude flow, For  the food on your table, let appreciation grow.  For one day you may wake, a...
Read more

Gratitude for Provided Lunch

Why We Need to Stop Wasting Our School Lunch Recently, a teacher raised a frustrating concern: students are throwing away the school-provided lunches. It’s a tough conversation, but it is one we need to have. The lunch provided by the PSS (Public School System) is a privilege. Many communities and organizations do not have the resources to offer free daily meals, and we are fortunate to have this support. Being thankful for what we receive creates a better school environment and shows appreciation for the staff who work hard to feed us every day. If you don't want to eat your meal, please do not throw it in the trash. Give it to a classmate who wants it. Consistently discarding food creates negative feedback that could jeopardize the entire lunch program. If we want this program to survive, we need to adapt. That means being willing to eat fruits and vegetables, rather than just sticking to the usual foods we prefer. This program is an opportunity to build healthier eating habi...
Read more