I have decided to give Mr. Saturday Night another chance. We'll talk tonight, because I can't stop thinking about him, and I was just really disappointed about how Saturday went.
I don't have this memorized, but I knew I'd find it in the blog.
When I grow tired of my students, as I always do--
staring at their faces till my sockets burn,
I remember one girl told me
how she followed a boyfriend home--
found him in tears--
He rocked on the bed
screamed at her to Get away
So she turned off his light
and closed the door,
and sat on his floor till morning.
When I think of this girl speaking
in her gentle voice with its rough edges
I think how teaching is like crouching sleepless
in a darkened room refusing to get up
knowing nothing will come of this,
--or only a story, maybe.
(Anon., found in Small Victories, by Samuel G. Freedman.)