Mrs. Ram's Jams

Tag: poetry

• A Poem: Teaching While Sick Haiku

  Posted at 11:41 pm by Mrs. Ram Jam, on October 12, 2018

  

  I am only posting because I’ve committed to writing a post weekly. Be prepared to be less than underwhelmed.

  (Disclaimer–These are not true to form haiku and run together to form one mildly incoherent poem.)

  ---

  I’ve taught class all week
  with an annoying fever
  and ear infection.

  Why teach while I’m sick?
  Because if I don’t show the
  kids are lunatics.

  I try to save days
  for scheduled doc visits
  and personal leave.

  I save my sick days
  because I’m a mother and
  my kid gets ill, too.

  Teaching while febrile,
  delirious, and loopy
  makes students nervous.

  I love an excuse
  to force students to question
  my stability . . .

  (and ‘cause messing with
  them while I’m sick makes me feel
  a tad bit better.)

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  Posted in poems, teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged bad haiku, bad poems, blogging, blogs, haiku, poems, poetry, teaching, terrible poems, writing

• A Poem: Poison

  Posted at 8:23 pm by Mrs. Ram Jam, on September 28, 2018

  

  Poise
  ensnares all the boys
  polish and posture
  cheekbones and allure
  style and grace
  smart with a pretty face

  Sin
  smirks his devil-may-care grin
  whiskey and cokes
  tattoos and smokes
  lies and alibis
  trouble in a handsome disguise

  Poise collides with Sin’s eyes,
  and poison sighs.

  Posted in poems, poetry, Uncategorized | 5 Comments | Tagged blogging, poems, poetry, poise, poison, sin, writing

• A Poem: Teacher Shaming

  Posted at 12:54 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on September 14, 2018

  

  I’m tired of societal teacher shaming and teacher shaming within the teaching profession. Are you? These unrealistic expectations Need. To. Go.

  ---

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you can’t hold your bladder for six hours plus

  you’re a bad teacher

  if a student and his parents see you at a restaurant with a glass of wine in front of you

  you’re a bad teacher

  if every single lesson isn’t differentiated and appealing to every single type of learner

  you’re a bad teacher

  if it takes you a week to return 95 five paragraph essays with quality feedback

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you question state standards and
  if you don’t question state standards

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you don’t teach to the test
  and if you do teach to the test

  you’re a bad teacher

  if all of your students aren’t mastery by the end of the year

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you don’t grade at home
  if you turn your email off after school hours
  if you aren’t available to students and parents 24/7
  if you aren’t losing sleep

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you take two days off in a row because you have contagious strep throat
  if you take a day off to accompany your kindergartner on her pumpkin patch field trip

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you put your children, your spouse, yourself before the job

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you don’t spend your own money to fund
  pencils, paper, and markers for your students who can’t afford them
  donuts, pizza, or ice cream for the victors of a classroom competition
  stickers, candy, and prizes for motivation

  you’re a bad teacher

  if you think you deserve a raise
  because, how dare you, it’s a calling, it’s not about the money
  if you think you deserve a raise, did you forget about your summers off

  you’re a bad teacher

  even though you have a bachelor’s degree in your area of expertise and a master’s to seal the deal

  you’re just a teacher
  you’re a bad teacher

  if you take a day off to protest at the capital for educational reform
  you should be in the classroom instead, teaching those kids

  you’re a bad teacher

  let me, my suit, my tie, my MBA make legislative decisions for you

  you’re just a teacher
  you’re a bad teacher

  if you’re human
  if you have a life outside your career
  if you don’t ooze platitudes and exalt your profession to the masses
  if you’re not a martyr

  You’re a bad teacher.
  You’re just a teacher.
  You’re a bad teacher.
  I’m a bad teacher .

  Posted in poetry, teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 7 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, poems, poems about teaching, poetry, teaching, writing

• A Poem: Little Thing at Six

  Posted at 1:30 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on September 8, 2018

  

  On Monday, I will have a six year old.  I just. Sigh. No words.

  Except I wrote a poem, so I did “word” just a little for my Little Thing.

  ---

   

  the floor is lava in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 
  glittery nail polish on fingers and toes
  pink, poofy dresses that pass the twirl test when spun
  fluffy kitties, fuzzy blankets, and fabulous bows

  noodles and strawberries
  cartwheels and splits
  Friday night dance parties featuring Katy Perry
  a whole box of tissue because of evening sneezing fits

  proper nouns are too hard to capitalize
  flour measured to perfection to bake cookies from scratch
  unwrapping toys like LOL Surprise
  funky socks that are mix and match

  silky, soft nightgowns worn all day on the weekends
  slime experiments made with Borax and Elmer’s Glue
  play dates full of giggles with her best girlfriend
  the antithesis of the color blue

  Happy sixth birthday dear, precious Little Thing.
  May your sweet, joyous, and innocent soul forever continue to laugh, dance, and sing.  

  ---

  (Here’s a picture of her birthday cake for her party, which is LOL Surprise doll themed.  She decorated it herself with minimal guidance from her nana, who always comes to visit from Illinois for the occasion.)

  

   

  Posted in kids, parenting, poetry, Uncategorized | 7 Comments | Tagged blogging, kids, parenting, poems, poetry

• A Poem (Plus Stage Directions): Why Teachers Can’t Remember Names at the Beginning of the Year

  Posted at 1:22 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on August 18, 2018

  

  Mrs. Ram: [After much reflection, Mrs. Ram realizes she’s called a student Alyssa instead of Allie the entire class period. Allie never once corrected Mrs. Ram. Mrs. Ram pulls Allie aside after class ends.]
  Hey Allie,
  Mrs. Ram apologizes profoundly
  for messing up your first name so soundly.
  Please realize my dear,
  at the beginning of the year,
  just how many names teachers have to memorize.
  Allie, I see you rolling your eyes!
  There’s one of me and 94 of you.
  Isn’t it obvious why I’m becoming unglued?
  Allie, again, stop rolling your eyes!
  Give me a second to rectify!
  In your class alone,
  wait for your mind to be blown,
  there’s a Brandon, Brady, and Brayden!
  And three more that rhyme: Jayden, Caden, and Aiden!
  To make matters worse, in second block I’ve got two Breannas,
  but one says it “onna” and the other “anna”–How’s that for bananas?
  Throughout the day there’s a Bree, Breelyn, and a Brea,
  then come the Sophs: Sophocles, Sophie, and Sophia.
  Enough with the eyes Allie! I’m almost done;
  I just need one more minute hun.
  You’ve also got to consider–I’m getting old.
  I’ve taught an entire family of Goldes.
  Six years ago, I had Ezra, now I have Ari who’s the last.
  How can it be my fault if I confuse current students’ names with their siblings’ names from the past?
  Not to mention the three sets of identical twins that I teach . . .
  Getting their names right on the first try is as impossible as removing stains without bleach!
  Allie, before you interrupt, I’ve got one last point to make.
  What’s with the abundance of Kens this year, for goodness sake?
  McKennas, Kenneths, Kendalls, Kendras, Kennys, Kennedies, and McKenzies?????
  Quickly matching names to new faces addles my mind into a frenzy!
  [Allie finally manages to get a word in edgewise–drops the mic.]
  Mrs. Ram: [Embarrassment in her tone, but not completely surprised . . . ]
  Dear lord! You’re not Allie or Alyssa but your name’s Hadley?
  Hadley, my sincere apologies; tomorrow, fingers crossed, I won’t screw up your name as badly.

  Posted in poetry, teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 9 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, poems, poems about teaching, poetry, teaching, writing

• A Poem: Teacher Tired

  Posted at 11:22 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on August 11, 2018

  

  I’m back to school teacher tired,
  as useless as a carton of milk gone sour and expired.
  My back is on fire, I’m finding it hard to respire, and my entire essence perspires.
  My throat feels like I’ve swallowed barbed wire.
  I’m terrified of this nervous tick I’ve acquired.
  My sanity has been swallowed by a quagmire.
  I’m simultaneously full of mirth and ire.
  Don’t get caught in the crossfire.
  In college, why did I switch my major from becoming an esquire?
  I’m so exhausted even my rhyme scheme is delirious and dire.
  Might as well throw this shitty poem on the funeral pyre.
  When can I retire to the Berkshires, listen to nothing but Reba McEntire, and build my own reading empire?
  For now, I’ll just sleep all weekend and wake up Monday refreshed and re-inspired.

  Posted in poetry, teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 2 Comments | Tagged blogging, poems, poems about teaching, poetry, teaching, terrible poems, writing

• A Poem: Gallivanting Gal Events

  Posted at 12:17 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on July 28, 2018

  

  I miss gallivanting with the girls–

  gal events where gals can vent and
  gales of giggles and gushing gossip act as a galvanizing antidepressant.

  Hey gals, it’s me!
  Are you free?

  Want to ride horses, galloping on trails this weekend?
  Or glamp while guzzling gallons of wine in a tent, friends?
  Or fly to Universal, spend galleons on butterbeer, and discuss J.K. Rowling’s literary merit?
  We could meet on the seventh or the eleventh and gaze at the galaxy looking for a constellation that looks like a ferret.

  But one gal has gallstones and needs emergency surgery,
  while another claims frugality and makes me feel like I’m committing prodigal perjury.
  My gal in New Orleans has children galore
  (For a matter of fact, she just birthed one more.),
  and another traveled to NYC to attend the MET Gala.
  Unfortunately, the gal down the road is in India saving Bengal tigers and fishing for cavalla.

  Don’t worry about it gals!
  We’ll get together soon for a boost of pal morale!
  If you need me, I’ll be having a conjugal relationship with my couch, researching the benefits of legalizing marijuana, and slathering my feet in antifungal cream,
  and trying to convince myself I’m a fun gal who’s just living the dream.

  Posted in poetry, Uncategorized, writing | 3 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, poems, poetry, writing

• Traveling with Little Thing Haiku

  Posted at 12:59 pm by Mrs. Ram Jam, on July 21, 2018

  

  At this point, Little Thing and I have been on the road for three weeks. We are tired. We are delirious. We’ve been on planes. We’ve been on trains. We’ve been in Ubers. I don’t know what day it is and have forgotten what our house looks like in Louisiana. These haiku are the best I can do this week.

  ---

  I love my girl, but
  traveling with little things
  takes lots of patience.

  She sips ginger ale,
  then malevolently spears
  ice with her black straw.

  The germy tray table
  must remain upright and locked
  right now, Little Thing.

  The man in the seat
  in front of you would prefer
  you not to kick it.

  Is there anyway
  to convert used gross tissues
  into gold or cash?

  Mommy, how dare you
  place the baby green pencil
  next to the pink one.

  Baby green and pink
  just broke up so it’s torture.
  Please separate them.

  San Antonio,
  Chicago, and Milwaukee?
  What WAS I thinking?

  Why did I download
  thirty-three new kitty apps?
  Ugh. So much meowing.

  Aunts and cousins mock
  Little Thing’s necessary
  eight o’clock bedtime.

  Want to scare people?
  Ignore your Iphone and write
  poems with a pen.

  Posted in kids, parenting, poetry, Uncategorized, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, haiku, poems, poetry

• A Poem: A Pseudo Ode to Women Wearing Yoga Pants in Melt Your Face Heat

  Posted at 1:31 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on July 7, 2018

  

  I just don’t understand.  I believe women should wear whatever they damn well please, BUT I SAW WOMEN SWIMMING TODAY IN YOGA PANTS (at SeaWorld/Aquatica in San Antonio).

  ---

  To the ladies traipsing about outdoors in yoga pants in 97 degree heat and a million percent humidity,
  I truly respect you, so please excuse my following acidity.
  It’s a tad ridiculous you’re sporting your winter athletic wear while gallivanting in this blazing heat.
  I’ve seen you donning them at the beach, at the zoo, and on the streets.
  I know what you’re trying to disguise,
  but your yoga pants won’t act as a chrysalis and transform your legs into beautiful butterflies.
  Those yoga pants are burning you alive,
  operating as two individual ovens roasting your legs like rotisserie chickens.
  Hey, I get it. Flattering summertime women’s legwear can be slim pickings.
  You don’t have to resort to rocking daisy dukes,
  but why wear heat-stroke-inducing pantaloons that cause you to nearly puke?
  Seriously girl, wear whatever you want because you’re gorgeous,
  but honestly (one chick to another), that sweat stain on your booty looks like a tyrannosaurus.  

  Posted in poetry, Uncategorized, yoga | 3 Comments | Tagged blogging, poems, poetry, writing, yoga

• Poetry: Humdrum Humdrum White Noise

  Posted at 4:35 pm by Mrs. Ram Jam, on June 21, 2018

  

  hum hum hum
  humming humming humming
  humdrum humdrum white noise

  If you’re lost in the hum, how can you find the humble?

  hobnobbing public pageantry
  hurling humdingers into profanity
  homogenizing vanity
  hovering behind hypocritical religiosity

  iconoclastic impostors of sanity

  humdrum humdrum white noise
  humming humming humming
  hum hum hum

  If you’re lost in the hum, how can you find humble?

  Hum? Hum? Hum?

  heave-ho the inanity, harrumphing, and humbugs
  and help put the human back into humanity
  and hush the white noise

  Posted in poetry, Uncategorized, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, hate, hum, poems, poetry, white noise, writing

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