She pushes her laptop into her bag,
Clears out the drawers of her desk,
Taking boxes of tissues, some
ChapStick, a paper punch, aspirin,
Then looks up at snaking pictures
Of letters, a poster with portaits
Of all of the presidents, uplifting
Quotes from various people,
And empty desks.  The kids have
Gone home to the neighbors
And parents who, like most Americans,
Don't see much point to kids going
To school.  There are laws now which
Tell her she can't teach them things.
Demagogues say she's a dangerous
Radical.  She's making nothing,
No more than people who sell her
The pencils kids got from the school
In those old days, when she used
To think she would teach, like
The ones who had taught her, until
She was old.  Everyone loved them,
Even the parents, but now only
Kids do.  The rest of the world
Regards her with scorn, so she's just
Giving up, and, on Monday, she'll
Look into joining the army, or
Learning to tap dance, or selling
Perfume, things that Americans
Think have some worth, unlike
Teaching.  She turns off the lights.