KJ Eastwick
Slightly crazy writer and passionate educator for those who struggle
My true heros
A hero inspires visions of grand and really strong men
Of Wonder Woman and Super Girl
Of capes, hammers and of big green men.
Alas these are only fiction
For I really wouldn’t mind
A big green man or a Thor and Hammer
Walking me into mine.
Heros come in different forms
Than those portrayed above
A hero may be a small boy, staying home from school to defend his Mum.
A hero may be a child who turns up at school day after day, struggling to learn to read, persistently trying each and every day.
A hero may be a co-worker, who keeps on plodding on, putting aside personal hardship to help a small someone.
A hero may be a person who just keeps going on – one foot in front of the other, until the day is done.
A hero may be a soldier who runs into a fight, A hero may be a police officer struggling to keep those drugged in line.
A hero may be a paramedic, a nurse, a doctor, a firefighter – they all put one foot in front of the other and get their jobs done right.
But for me the most amazing heros are those that do not complain, their quiet calm acceptance of everything life throws their way.
These people do not give up –
they just keep on going on
keep on walking forward.
These heros are – for me – the true ones.
The door to education
The door to education
is not that hard to find.
Thousands of people daily
Stand waiting there to guide.
So why is it that some ignore it,
And some struggle to acquire
Then there are the ones
That formal education is against.
The keepers of these learnings
Are not exactly what you think.
I teach maths and science
Yet do not know how to unblock a sink.
So thank you to those keepers
In all our many forms
That help the world to study
And generate the links
that mean acquiring knowledge
Is a societal norm.
too scared to live
I do not know what you hide
You only show so much
I can tell you are troubled
I can tell you reasons why
Did your mother hit you this morning?
Did you actually have food at home?
Did your father take your medicine – that helps you concentrate?
Your brother’s now your sister
Your mother – she moved out
Your father – you never knew him
You live with an Aunt and Grandma
At least there is a roof;
Your mother refuses to see you
She cancels every trip;
You hide out in the skate park
It’s safer than your house.
You never learnt to read
You feared those frightful sounds
Your brain was in survival
No learning to be found.
Every noise in that classroom
A potential threat
Every smile can hide a hand
That’s coming up to hit.
You spent the day petrified
That you would find no one at home.
You spent the week horrified
Only moldy hunks unrecognizable in the fridge.
You spent the month wondering
If the police would raid your house.
What is the point of learning
When you are too scared to live
Monotony
My day is long, yet boring,
Focus – I cannot
I’d rather be at home reading,
Work – anything but!
I have a long to do list
Yet nothing is inspired
I tick long box after long box
Dying slowly inside.
Breaks again
There are days I cannot handle
The stories just repeat
Students with disabilities
So damned hard to teach.
I am not talking adds and multiplies
Or the ins and outs of poetry
I’m talking about how students know
That they deserve more.
These students with ASD
Do not understand the simple things
Of what is right and what is wrong
And what is simply not to be done.
My heart has broken too many times
I do not know when is the line
To stop, because I cannot.
I try my best each and every day
To make a difference in any way
Yet the same bad stories
Play and play
And my heart breaks again.
BuCket List Item Done
My masters is complete
I’ve wanted it for years
It started as an MBA
When I was just around ten.
I made it through my schooling
My MBA far ahead
I did a Bachelor of Science
And I thought my dream was dead
I went back a couple of decades later
And got a Graduate Diploma.
The dream once more remembered.
Roll forward years and indecisions
An MBA no longer fit
But smiles all round
I had a plan with a Masters in it.
And not but two years later
I have finally done it.
It’s the little things
I am alone
Yet I am not
I am lonely
Yet I am not
I am worried
Constantly worried
And I am tired of it all.
The pressures of living
Close in, in my brain
It’s not the big things
Those I cannot control
It’s the little things that bother me now.
Fruitlessly attempting to study
I drift off to dream land
Yet another time
I started to study
The readings were dry
My head jerks awake
As it falls on my chest
My eyes blink excessively
Fruitlessly at best
I attempt again
To read academic scripts
But the deep dark sanctum
Of sleep; rolls other clips.
Memories
When cleaning out the house
There are many treasures to behold
Long forgotten memories
Helping to shape the future mould.
Insidious Weed
Insidious weed
Come to stay
Invaded the place
In just one day.
Interventions
