For two hours I sit in group therapy,
observing. Feeling the tension, the exhaustion
stifling the room. In a circle I study
the faces of my fellow interns.

…..Frustrated…….Poor…
….Bitter….Distracted….
Trapped…….Tired…………Confused…..
………..Lost………Angry……..
…Hopeless……………Unhappy…….
..Insecure…..Bored……..Absent…..

Each face shines with a story, untold.
The death of idealism. Hope fades
as the questions mount. Teaching
is about questions. Some questions though cannot be answered,
and some answer are buried within.

Am I a good teacher? Do I care enough? Will I find a job?
Can I do this long term? Do I want to? Deep question not answered
flippantly. The voice drones on.
The circle remains unchanged.
physically present interns, mentally
absent.

Click above to hear an audio version of the poem.

©j.alan 2007