Unhappy Questions

Posted in Completely Random on May 31, 2010 by Magistra

I’m confused

Wondering what I am to you

Am I just someone you put beside you because there’s no one else around?

Am I more to you than just some girl?

Do I captivate you?

Do you see me?

Are you into me or are you into how my attention makes you feel?

You’re words are charming

Are they real?

You say you’re with me

Are you?

You stated you were done with the e

Have you been?  Or are you still there?

I don’t know if I’m safe.

I don’t know if I’m with you or if I’m just standing in the same space.

I am confused.

And I just don’t know.

© Dulcinea 2010. All rights reserved.


The Attack

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2010 by Magistra

Attacking my heart

My livelihood

My love

Attacking my patience

My joy

My peace

Attacking my body

My brains

My mood

You can attack all you want

But you will not succeed

“No weapon that is formed against you will prosper; And every tongue that accuses you in judgment you will condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, And their vindication is from Me,” declares the LORD. ~Isaiah 54:17

© Dulcinea 2010. All rights reserved.

Twas the Week Before Summer

Posted in Shop Talk (or something like it) on May 23, 2010 by Magistra

Twas the week before summer
And all through the school
The students and teachers
Were starting to drool

The children were scattered
They couldn’t attend
To anything at all
That their teachers said

The teachers were Jonesing
It hurt when they’d think
All they could think of
Was tall frosty drinks

The principal was closed
In his office so messy
Hiding from parents
Who were getting quite testy

But the teachers who’d been teaching
For many long years
Danced and twirled down the hallways
All laughter and tears

These wise souls knew something
That made them so happy
They were retiring soon
And were getting quite sappy

But the rest of the bunch
I’m sorry to say
Were frazzled and goofy
During these last school year days

Little Peter in his Sketchers
And Sue in her Keds
Were bouncing off walls
Without all their meds

The behavioral kids
Were more stubborn than ever
Rolling their eyes
Declaring, “Whatever!”

Justine was emotional
Philip was sleepy
RayAnn was giddy
Georgio was weepy

In the midst of this chaos
So noisy and ruckus
Were the teachers with no time
To sit down on their tuckus

They were cleaning and grading
And wiping off tears
One eighty days of hard work
Summing up the long year

They’d crafted their lessons
And given their tests
They’d worked dawn till dusk
Without taking a rest

They’d fought for their students
For that which was right
And then been belittled
For fighting that fight

They’d payed out of pocket
For supplies and for treats
They knew what love was
Cherishing each of their sweets

Watching the news
Was depressing at best
They knew they’d be judged
By the scores on one test

Yet despite the attacks,
The drama, the tears,
These teachers kept going
For months turned to years

Devoted to teaching
Each child in the class
The teachers refused
So sit back and relax

And now at the end
Of another long year
Only one week to go
And what do we hear?

We hear laughter resounding
Down each of the halls
The teachers still teaching
One more lesson to all

About what it is
To be full of hope,
Tender in trial,
And to gracefully cope

And so they’ll exclaim
As kids run down the hall,
“Billy, I’ve told you a million times,
You’re going to fall!”

© Dulcinea 2010. All rights reserved.

End of the School Year Poems

Posted in Shop Talk (or something like it) on May 23, 2010 by Magistra

The bees are buzzing,
The birds and frogs are chirping,
And I grade papers
– Haiku

The beach is calling,
“Come and swim in the blue sea!”
But I must do work
– another Haiku

The drama of the school,
created not by children
but by adults who should know better,
is more than I can handle today.
– Tanka

© Dulcinea 2010. All rights reserved.


Posted in Life & All That Jazz, Politics & Ulcers, Soapboxes on May 22, 2010 by Magistra

I’m tired of the drama
Of the haters
Of the press

I’m tired of being told what to wear
What to think
How to dress

I’m tired of being subjected to anger
Pure jealousy
And unveiled cruelty

I’m tired of hearing her screams every night as they fight
His fists hitting I’m not sure what
Her stifled sobs

I’m tired of being attacked for standing up for what is right
Being targeted for speaking truth
For holding fast

I’m tired of meanness from strangers
From friends
From colleagues

I’m tired of double speaking
And lies

I’m tired of seeing people sit on their ass all day and do nothing
I’m tired of working my ass off to pay for them to do so
I’m tired of learned helplessness and sloth

I’m tired of bitchy women and hateful men
Of the people who think they have a license to be asinine
To judge

I’m tired of doing the right thing to see others drop the ball
Fall for an excuse
Or make one

I’m tired of being constantly bombarded by negativity and hate
Of being the voice of reason
Preaching to an empty choir loft

I’m just so fucking tired of it all

© Dulcinea 2010. All rights reserved.


Posted in Love or Hate (depending) on May 17, 2010 by Magistra

The words are stuck
Fighting not to escape
But to remain unspoken

My feelings are a jumbled mess
Unclear and terrifyingly so
But very clear in their directionality
They are of the falling sort

I was walking forward
Moving on through my life
When our paths crossed
And I met you

You’re not like the rest
You remain undefinable
The Other, The Mystery
Awakening more than just my curiosity

In the distracted moments that followed
I lost my footing and now I am descending into the unknown
Unable to determine which way is up
Or if you are falling with me

© Dulcinea 2010. All rights reserved.

To Be A Teacher

Posted in Soapboxes on May 8, 2010 by Magistra
This is a beautiful poem written by a colleague and friend.  She is a passionate and extremely talented teacher.  This is shared with permission.


Our talents are the essence of our natural self…of who we are.

Our talents are innate; they cannot be instilled, learned, or removed.

We have an innate talent for teaching, it is natural and individual.

It doesn’t take very long for a teacher to “read” a child…


We are passionate people; no one has the right to tell us how to teach…

A Teacher Knows

WE are powerful influences in a child’s life;

We are the one constant that many of these children have.

A doctor has to look at each patient’s file before he/she can make a decision; a teacher needs no file …


© Andrea Heitzman 2010. All rights reserved.