I want to write a poem today
but the numbers are against me:
I teach in a room built for 9 people
I have 26 people today
I have 3 annoyingly annoyed case managers
in the computer lab, and 1 little man
in my only private space, my office,
doing psychological assessments. I have 8
new clients, and 1 sore back. I have a need
for 2 new contacts, and I have 1 stressful
job developer (who does great work) who
will be covering class later. I need to teach
for 4 more hours, and I have a meeting with
1 center director and a case manager
in an hour and a half.
I love this poem. What a nice conceit you carried through so well right to the end. I am tempted to add up the numbers and make some kind of mathless equation out of it to mean: I’m so tired.
Love it!
Sounds like hell to me –
surrounded by caseprimadonas and their beaurocratic/self preservation agendas.
may God give you the humor to stop yourself from choking the shit out of those who so richly deserve it.
Sounds like hell to me –
surrounded by caseprimadonas and their beaurocratic/self preservation agendas.
may God give you the humor to stop yourself from choking the shit out of those who so richly deserve it.