They never told me . . .

They taught me how to write goals

and objectives.

You identified static and dynamic characters

with 100% accuracy.

They told me I needed to be engaging.

I used music, movies, and humor . . .

Oh the guffaws that filled the room

when Abigail Williams became Abitramp.

They said hands-on experiences are best.

I took you to the Globe Theatre

so you could see what I was talking about.

We defied gravity together,

but then again, not quite.

I remember your outstretched hand

after that unfortunate Eiffel Tower incident.

They insisted that building relationships was

most important.

It was you who drove me to urgent care

when I visited your college town.

They filled me with knowledge,

prepared me in so many ways.

But none of it seems apropos now.

You’re gone.

I’m at a complete loss.

I’ve been teaching for nineteen years.

I could teach for nineteen more, I think,

and still have no idea what to do

when a student

dies.