I’m a teacher
getting older
becoming one of the nameless men
that taught me.

I used to wonder:
Who are these guys
who thought it was a good idea
to come back to school
after they’d escaped?

Some days I’m a mist of adulthood,
hovering over the classroom,
hiding in the cracks in the walls,
ignoring the jokes of my students.

Other days I’m an 8th grader too,
just  
grown taller
and greyer,
balder,
and fatter.
And it hurts
when the other kids don’t like me.