My students sometimes fade from existance
My mind a swirling black hole
And I assume that the same occurs to them
Another teacher, years later, unremembered, unremarked.
But each student I teach touches me
In ways I cannot explain
The quiet of the McA’s
The future artisitc director, the one who was a parent – too soon.
I wonder which ones will fade, held in my black hole – for just awhile.
It touches me to be remembered,
To be greeted at the shops
Yet for me the names blur meaninglessly
Faces, like uniforms, the same.
I remember the one who tried so hard, yet always got it wrong,
The one who’s father gave her up, the one who’s Mum walked out.
I remember the one who always smiled and always made my day,
The one who started out hating maths, then loving it, cycling back to hate.
I remember the one who quit school without a word,
The anxious girl who hated her life so much, she ran away.
I remember being told I suited a child because I did not fuss
And the child who used to love the fuss because at home they were an item of furniture.
Yet I never know which ones will fade and which will stay the same.
Who have I forgotten, what talents and strengths did they have?
I spend this night wondering, pondering and wishing I had written it down.