Branch 2: Wonder-Lost Under The Willow

          You wouldn't see it, with how quickly I move upon my early waking.  The quick movement comes from the cold in the still darkness of the early morning.  The quicker the movement, the quicker the building of heat--and perhaps a longer delay to the daily unfound feelings which always cascade.  I wake quickly, move and dress quickly, and am out the door on the street on a brisk walk to the Seventh Ward.  Up Rampart Street down Esplanade Street and to my school.  What you would not and what most of you cannot see are the roots that are billowing from within my mind in the streets and sidewalks as I head to my school.  They are feelings that slow me, drag me, sink me from my destination.  They will never stop me, I will let nothing stop me completing this year, but they are unfathomably heavy weights upon my travels,
          As I said to my friend tonight, "I love my students, but hate my school."  Today--One teacher left and there was no sub. (as usual), found out that our Charter is most likely to fail and we'll all be unemployed come the end of the year, I have to make a Benchmarks homeroom chart, I have to plan a piece for the Christmas Assembly, and I regret the choices I/We made today.  Stayed out longer for lunch, joined all three classes into my room, began to watch "Dangerous Minds," Abandoned two of my classes novel reading, walked in on by my principal, and in the tone of the season A partridge in a pair tree.  My school's faults rarely tend to over weigh its successes.  Many  parts of the time not necessarily my failings, yet sometimes only because of
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          Dear Santa and God,

For Christmas I ask for the gifts of self-pride and school culture to be bestowed upon all of my students.  And selfishly, I wish for the growth of time, organization, and patience so that I may be able to better gift my students.  For as hard as I do work, I often can only see and feel my failure.  But I do have to say that as punkass as many of them are, I do have children under my branches that I do love very much.

WithUnder The Willow Tree,
                                                Cid Galicia