It's true. After nine months of constant focus on school, suddenly all my grading is done and I look around my house and see it a little more clearly. Of course, there's all the cleaning to be done in my classroom, too. And the metaphorical cleaning up as I reflect on the past year and all the messes I made, and wonder how I can do better next year.
I found this poem that expresses a bit of what I feel about the clutter taking over, and also the questioning about what stays and what goes, literally and figuratively.
by Maxine Scates
This is everything she ever closed a door
on, the broom closet of childhood
where no one could ever find a broom.
Here, layer upon layer, nothing breathes:
photo albums curl at the edges, books
she brought home from the library
where she worked, handled by thousands
of other hands before their final exile
where they’ve waited, paper and more paper
taking in the ocean air, about to sprout.
You can read the rest of it, and listen to it, here.
You can find today's roundup here.