At the end of a very long Wednesday
full of SAT testing
and crazy long class periods
and late lunches
and exhausted students,
Sebastian entered the classroom.
”Why is this room different
since you came?” he remarked,
setting down heavily,
chrome book, backpack, and instrument case.
I thought he was referring to the chairs
rearranged for testing
since I rearranged them for learning
after a week of teaching
to a class of zoned out students.
I’m impersonating a high school teacher
of Spanish and other things I pretend to know
or confess that I don’t know.
Every day I wonder how to be
“Aquí” for students que no quieren estar aquí.
I try on new disguises
and secretly pray for these kids.
”No,” Sebastian responded, ”Not the chairs.
This room smells like frankincense
since you came.”
“How do you know
what frankincense smells like?”
I ask, feeling like reality
has suddenly disolved
in a cloud of incense.
“I go to church.
This room smells like church.”
Apparently, I smell like church.
Even inhibited, I cannot hide
or pretend to be someone else.
