And the next poem I'm reading is for the schoolteachers
of this world that very much put upon group
of people which I am one.
I taught in public schools for a couple of years
before I came here.
And I think that was my best teaching, probably the best
teaching I've ever done.
I was totally inexperienced, which was a great asset.
And I didn't really realize how bad I was.
I realized that I wasn't supplying
the needs of the children--
I tried, it was a constant source of frustration to me.
Their needs were much greater than my ability to fill them.
But I think all teachers have this feeling
some time or another that I have I have described here,
and I think it applies to university teachers
as well as teachers and public schools.
It's a very short poem called "The Children."
I heard the mouths of the silent dying of departure.
If we could only remember the water before it froze,
they said.
Learn this, I told them, it is not true
but it will keep you warm in the winter.
My words fell on their delicate shoulders like whips.
We are thirsty, they said.
Their dry laughter was desperate.
Take this cup, I told them, and wait for the rain,
put your wilted hands over your eyes
and believe in the coming of light.