Give me my classroom.
Give it to me with a tea kettle in the corner,
and a stack of tea waiting
to be brewed on cold rainy mornings.
Give me books, the smell of them,
lovely, and old, tucked up tight for the summer,
covers torn, pages dog-eared, and
waiting to be read as the leaves turn.
Give me what has always made the most sense,
kiddos to teach, and stories to tell, passion
to share, and goals to throw high.
And dusty fingerprints,
of a thousand chalkboard memories,
Please, my classroom.