Grinding your teeth as you pursue

the unobtainable, the deep, tossing and turning

the fear of entering a class, your voice rising in self-doubt

as students walk out, their complaints minuted.

You've become a teacher cornered in the staff room;

glances, half-smiles and what a whisper allows.

Never make a decision in the middle of the night

with an alarm clock undermining the very idea

of tomorrow. Your feet begin to itch

a rash appears on your skin. Your methods

have been appraised. A teacher can make a difference

watching a re-run of Great Expectations at 4am.

Their voices never leave you as the marking piles up

the prospect of holidays, elusive as an A+.