New Classroom Poem

New Classroom

“New” is a relative term, of course.

For it’s walls all but whisper the stories of thousands of children.

Surrounding me, they watch with wise silence as I bustle about,

Sticking them with pins, and staples and covering them with brilliant shades of paper.

They practically sigh as I hang my welcome sign.

But it is my new classroom and I love it so.

It could be that it is simply that it belongs to me that makes it so irresistibly delightful,

But, no.  It is something else…

Some ancient glow that is hidden deep within the heart of this classroom.

A love for children so deep that only a building built for that purpose can know.

And it seems to accept me.

Welcomes me into this new world,

And takes me under it’s wing like a mentor. 

That woody pungent smell is beginning to smell like home.

At first sight I saw the potential in this dusty, forsaken, aged room.

Like a premonition I saw it sparkling clean, bustling with children,

Purposeful and happy once again.

Now, as the day draws nearer I draw comfort from this space,

This home I have built for people I don’t yet know.

I can feel my new classroom glowing with pride and,

like me, waiting with anxious pleasure.

~Ronee Treadwell