“Bet”

That once every three or four years affirmative phrase
Goes through our school like…a…v…
Well it’s too soon to make those comparisons,

Anyway…

We were sitting in an empty classroom,
Except of course for the four of us,
Spread apart like a couple of Army guys fearing grenades when

“Bet”

A innocent converstation starter came out, as in the open,
And we tried to make sense of it in a non-military way,
Given the battle between hybrid heads and virtual va-neverminds

“Basic Educational Tactics”

Ah, a simple acronym for describing what is lost in school
Basic educational tactics, schooling, learning,
Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic

Not all this other stuff,

Social work, lack of accountability, getting kids to turn their cameras on
We used to teach, now we coerce, cajole, and cater,
We are more like a failing business giving out deals than leaders in education.

“Bet

The day started with spinning,
Not on a bike, but old school,
Tibetan style, with muscles loosening,
Breath waking up, and a mind made clear.

Treadmill time passed quickly,
Made better by a podcast
Where talk of accepting struggles as opportunities
Set the tone for a day of gratitude.

Then it was more “good” from the Seal,
Followed by a preacher sermonizing about struggle
And I knew I was in the midst of a collision,
Definitely, in store for a challenging day,

Thank you? Bueno? Amen?

School started as it always does,
Coffee and quick conversation,
Before two classes of virtual instruction,
A morning staring at a faceless class. (Thank you.)

The afternoon brought students sleeping,
Not just sleeping, but turning in with their cameras on,
Face buried in a pillow,
Night light on. (Bueno.)

Practice went well, the last of two,
The girls know it’s almost over,
Their attention for drills and conditioning gone,
Leaving scrimmaging as the saving grace. (Amen.)

The temper within
Must be tamed or unleashed completely,
Never directed at people,
Never accepted as the way,
Only used to fuel whatever the project,
The purpose, the issue.

The temper within
Cannot be a fossil fuel
Burning dirty, hot, and molten
Harnessing a clean source of purpose,
A renewable energy for growing,
For creating, for being happy.

The temper within
Drives the man wherever he allows
Be in control,
Be full of restraint,
Using discipline to manage instinct,
To manage impulse, to manage you.

Yo, Hub, it’s back,
The manuscript, the one with the words,
The one with the guy on the journey,
Yep, that’s the one.

The time away has been refreshing,
Renewing, leaving a new found verve,
Maybe some sustainable energy,
We’ve heard that before somewhere else.

I’m ready to see where he takes us,
Parts unknown, pasts reconfigured,
The places where we never thought he’d go
Wise, risky, unafraid of what some might think.

It’s time for me to get my shit out of my locker,
To blow through doubt, distraction, and the
Dearth of worry that I feel when it’s time to get serious,
Ain’t nothin’ to it…

Not too much of anything,
Just hanging out,
Enjoying the fall colors,
Watching the leaves fall,
Trying decide between shorts and sweats,
It’s about all there is, right now.

No, not interested in the political commentary,
I know what they’re about,
Bland sound bites with nothing to say,
Full of hubris and gall,
It’s like trying to decide between wrong and wrong,
That’s how I feel, right now.

A breeze just came,
You should see the leaves breaking away,
They float so easily to the ground,
Fast enough for their colors to blur a bit,
No passion, no resignation,
Only a peacefulness as they nestle on the ground.

Dracula, the original, is up tonight,
Last week, Vincent Price entertained us,
The House on Haunted Hill brought the camp
And a lot of fright circa 1950s.

Tonight will be more dramatic,
Full of the spirit word, the myths of superstition,
Realities of our collective unknowns.
Or maybe, it’s only a movie.

Who knows?

Tough losses suck,
Especially when it’s against a rival.

That’s how this weekend started,
A tough loss to a rival.

Now it’s time to kick of my shoes,
Sleep away the blues, and get ready for November.

That would be write a novel November,
And I might get an early start.

After I run, after a nap, maybe some lesson planning,
But I’m on it, deep diving into a project, that needs completing.

Can’t wait…

First things first,
I know how to retrace an eight
So don’t put me in the oral spitoon’s club.

Now, cliche, strength in numbers,
Power with people and
The numbers are nearly there.

Some might need a gentle nudge,
Others subtle persuasion,
The ones not taking the offer
Can go the way of Clemenza
Figurativly speaking, of course.

Who will bring the clans together?
Who will unite the kingdoms against the Danes?
How about all of the departments?

Rabble needs raising,
Swamps need to be pissed on,
The sky is falling is fake news.

Just like the belief that the current structure protects us,
What is the alphabet organization even doing beyond collecting dues
Not Exactly Anything, nationally.
Locally, Keeping Evertyhing Apart by playing a collusion game
That is being run by the man,
The one we are supposed to be a check on.

Impotent, our organization is about as satisfying as stuffing
A marshmallow through a keyhole,
But you know I won’t pay them,
I’m tired of the rationalization that they negotiate on my behalf,

Bullshit,

They are about them, keeping close to power,
To make it seem that they are noble, honorable, and worthy of a reach around.
My truth is that they are no better than the word of weebles
Whose words never speak honestly
Yet they never fall down.

That’s why I say the Covid induced solitary confinement is over,
That the man has overly administered its fickle position,
And maybe the wet noodles and apologists are ready to unite.

The energy is building.
Don’t be a dinosaur, change or die,
Which is already close, all that’s left,
Is to roll over.