Friday, June 27, 2025

entry seven

 Friday 3/7/25 

I heard whispers of this, but the nightmare is coming true. President Trump is tearing apart the Department of Education. It’s quickly fading away. No more federal oversight, no more guarantees, just a wave of uncertainty crashing down on top of everything else. 


I already felt like I was barely holding on, but this? This feels like the ground beneath me is crumbling. My school is already in limbo, operating without a contract, with no promises about our future. We are working nine months so far without a contract. We’ve been told to “wait and see,” but waiting doesn’t pay my bills. It doesn’t ease the panic gnawing at the back of my mind. 


What happens now? What will happen to my students—the ones who need these protections the most? Special education was already underfunded, already an uphill battle. Without federal mandates, without safeguards, who will fight for them? Who will fight for us because we have no contract yet? 


I can’t sleep. My head spins with worst-case scenarios. No funding, no job security, no guarantees. Will my students still receive the support they need? Will I even have a job next year? I show up every day, exhausted, stretched thin, but I keep going. For my students. For their right to learn. But right now, I don’t know if that’s enough. AND I don’t know if I can keep doing this much longer. 


The worst part? No one seems to have answers. The district, the state, even my principal—everyone is just as lost as we are. Some teachers are already looking for new jobs, fearing the worst. I can’t blame them. I want to believe things will work out, but right now, it just feels like we’re all waiting for the inevitable collapse. 

 




The Weight of Waiting 


Whispers in the wind—   

soft, seeping, sinister,   

the sound of something shattering,   

slowly, surely,   

cracking the cornerstone of what we knew. 

 

The Department dissolves,   

fading like a dream in daylight,   

the distant drone of decisions made   

far away—   

whoosh, thud, crash,   

the ripple of consequences   

sinking into the ground beneath my feet. 

 

I feel it now—   

this heavy, hollow hum   

as I hang,   

precariously perched,   

waiting.   

A world without contracts,   

without guarantees,   

without anyone to catch me   

when I fall. 

 

I ache.   

My mind churns,   

twisting and turning,   

the grind of panic,   

growing, gnawing—   

this endless noise in my head,   

the weight of questions   

no one can answer.   

What will happen to my students?   

What will happen to me?   

 

My hands tremble.   

I show up,   

exhausted,   

but I keep moving.   

For them.   

For their future.   

For their right to learn. 

 

But what happens when there’s nothing left   

to hold us?   

What happens when the silence is louder   

than the answers we seek? 

 

We wait.   

*Click-clack*,   

the ticking of time.   

I don’t know how much longer   

I can keep holding on   

as the world spins   

out of control. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

entry sixty-seven

  Wednesday, July 2, 2025 I’ve been reflecting lately on why I’ve stayed in this work for so long—not just physically present, but truly ...