Confessions of a Kindergarten teacher

 

Confessions of a Kindergarten Teacher

 

Toddlers trickle in like merry sunbeams,

Admitting me into their oyster worlds;

A new set of tiny hands claps each year,

I’ve learnt to detach, they’re not mine to keep.

 

I spy baggage and scars left by harsh words;

That I can lighten with a bear-like hug,

Their parents watch them grow,

But I help them moult.

 

They repeat after me, some days they don’t

I’d rather snap than repeat, but I try

I see good days and bad, like every mom

Some days I’m so sapped, I struggle to smile,

 

 

There are times I yearn to be with adults,

But they don’t forgive and never forget,

The twinkle steadily dimming  from their beady eyes,

Not wanting to sing, or cheer, or repeat.

 

I then yearn for butterflies, stars and sand,

I chase my world of silly rhymes;

Of impromptu dances and caterpillars,

Of so many childhoods rolled into one;

I see a little more of God around me.