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bittersweet goodbyes

Last week I closed out the school year a little differently, with a heavier heart. This was my last year teaching in this state, and I’m happy to have ended it with middle schoolers. They are hilarious. They’ve helped me love and remember my inner teen. I love a questioning, sarcastic individual. And middle schools have ‘em in spades.
As you may be used to hearing by now, my exit is due to the unsustainable exhaustion that teaching can have on people, especially when you have kids. I don’t know how teachers with kids do this for so long; they are heroes and deserve the utmost respect. Please remember this. Or sub for a few days and see it for yourselves. Maybe more people will see what those of us leaving do. We are in a critical moment in education. The state of it affects each of us, whether you have children or not.
There are changes that need to be made in education and we scream them from the rooftops to no avail so my conclusion finally, is what I’ve always feared: the flaws, the discrepancies… are ignored at least and intentional at worst. Are we collectively lacking the bravery and creative understanding to change it? What does it say about our country that areas within it make education a struggle and not a joy?
I have put so much into this career, and I hold so much love for the schools I’ve been a part of. At this point, by and large the system must be undeniably aware that it allows the exploitation of our time, our energy, and our care; simultaneously not deferring to us as professional experts. It’s like any other systemic issue in that way; it keeps plodding along as it is, not asking the people it needs to ask, the important questions; not following through with meaningful change – or doing it incredibly slowly.
We have bigger issues to solve than their test scores. This excessive pouring over scores. The kids are human. The all-too-often unreliable, irrelevant numbers on a sheet do not come close to reflecting the most key information. I don’t look at myself through a numerical lens and I suppose it’s not how I want to spend time looking at others. There are more personal needs to focus on. There are things a school cannot fix. There are things that need to start in the home. Respect starts at home. An appreciation for learning starts at home. There are people in those homes who need help. This is a society problem.
I hope we vote for leaders who are concerned about the state of it. I hope teachers and parents figure it out together as humans, with human needs, not as mouthpieces for their political parties. That’s the only way forward. Although I’ve had the occasional difficult parent, I’m so done with the tired narrative that parents and teachers are against each other. It’s harmful, and we’re actually not when it comes down to it.
And what of the kids? I’ve learned this: the kids just want adults to see them, they want adults to care. And they’d be more invested in school if it was constructed with them in mind.
I will miss them. I will miss my coworkers who get it and who are there for all the beautiful reasons.
A bittersweet goodbye ✌🏻
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Banana Bread

I hardly recall our drives home. Except for the one where I was griping about your classical music.
I was always one for lyrics.
Stepping into your home was like walking into a shrine for all things southwest.
Kokopellies and roadrunners and pictures of sunset covered mountains. Magnets of quails and a birdbath in teal. The heat didn’t seem to sway your love for all things desert. I used to play outside near that birdbath, alone. Thinking about the trees and how pretty the Weeping Willow was. How it resembled hair falling to the floor. I’d observe praying mantis’ for what seemed like hours wondering how something so unique and strange could exist. I was fascinated by the murderous females. Every room was ripe with stereotypical western decor and early recognitions of loneliness.
The guest room had two single, teal comforter beds. Only one used, by me. The bookshelf filled with books you’d read, with me. I get my choice every time. The bathtub where I’d take a bath alone, cleaning my hair with swimmer’s shampoo. The smell still lingers in the recesses of my brain. The living room where we read, the two of us. On the cold, no-good-for-a-nap couch that looked like it had mountains on it. The floor in front of the tv. Even the tv stand looked like it was made to mimic the mountains in its structure. I picked the shows with your approval, I played with my nearly hundreds of Barbies. Never having to wonder if I’d have to share my favorites. We’d make banana bread in the kitchen. I quietly spooned around the mixture with one stirrer. What a revelation when you learn your reality is not another’s. When you learn your experience of loneliness has its own life and taste. And banana bread tastes like peace and quiet by a sunny window. What a paradox to be with someone who is doing everything to be with you, yet you still feel the sting of being alone.
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Soft Landing

Soft and cozy landing An innocent’s sweet abandon Dreaming on my chest Hands resting on my neck Nothing like youth’s rest How does one so little Know how to hug so well? The heaviness is lovely I’d bottle up your smell Feel your soft dips up and down Inhale, exhale The world outside these walls is swirling But right now all is well I wish I could replay this scene for all my years When someday I’m remembering With haunting, grateful tears If I squeeze you longer Can I hold it? Or re-inhabit my body later, in this moment? Whenever I please. Always here Should you need a soft landing of peace dedicated to my babies 🙂 -Rachel Burger
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What am i…

What am i /but the lines in the palms of my hands - perhaps hints to the pathways of my life What am i / but the moles and freckles making up my outer layer / stars and constellations / I, a universe in my own right What am i / but the lines cutting deeper into my skin each year / like the annual rings of a tree / I too am a many layered thing / evidence of my time showing itself through crevices forming in my glabellar area / all that time spent, pensive / you can read me like the core of the tree if you’re paying attention What am I / but the scar near my elbow that still feels textured and bumpy / the memory of falling on my bike carved onto my skin forever What am I / but the background hum of all the noise between my ears / the world between my ears / all the intricacies in the makeup of my hemispheres / What am I / but the culmination / the chemistry combined / of all the other universes I’ve known and touched / all the palms I’ve graced / all the uncanny resemblances of Helix-nebulas I’ve stared into with my own / trying to know / see into their system What am I / but the twice made scar in my abdomen / two universes brought to life / by love and chemistry / and everything that is all at once scientific and magical What am I / but the history of my sisters / the blood sweat and tears of journeys before me / the ceiling breaks and the prayer for sunbeams from lives who wanted more for those who come after them What am I / but an evolution of time And life And love And a universe In my own right -Rachel Burger
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Education

increase the classes one size fits all for the masses slowly we fix slow as molasses bulging classrooms requests unheard? awaiting resources the good word dreams of true education taken curious children forsaken hope questioned effort drought who can blame them, argue with their doubt and we who know more than most know about leaders burned out deeply devoted despite the passion rif, by numbers; demoted pushed to the brim stretched too thin all the roadblocks tower over the wins more responsibilities, more tests yes, perhaps little resource but, do better than your best as your needs are ignored what’s one more request? yes, you’re the professionals but you don’t know best please don’t leave, but things won’t change the community thinks poorly? well, that’s strange the obstacles so much to fight dream of transformation because all isn’t right with each nonsensical decision our hearts sink lower, chests remain tight feelings of hopelessness worry through the night not the decision-maker’s problem out of mind when out of sight our perspectives ignored must be oversight not enough weaponry with which to fight oldie, but feeling really relevant. love to you. ~Rachel
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What Hope Tastes Like

prompt from: @whenthebeestings on Instagram tea in morning light fresh food in the breeze the risen bread after a collapsed loaf sunsets’ shutting eye on seas water after a long parched rest home base knowing eyes that know you best the first meal when illness has retreated a firm cradling hug when all other comforts have been depleted ~rachel burger
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I’ve Lived Lives in my Dreams

I’ve lived lives in my dreams Not confined by realities The adventure leaving me beguiled That picked up where I left on and Kept going for miles Haunting me with possibilities Cause I’m always wondering about these Pathways I’ve abandoned Erased them like chalk lines Where I stopped and turned at a curve Drew new borders I’ve defined It haunts me Is it haunting for you? All the things we didn’t do? I’ve known them longer Seen the chaos of keeping on this path Traveled through stranger’s stories Danger and wrath Fell through glistening stars Bent reality through Life Memory And fantasy Owning all that’s ours Flipped through channels of time and place My dreams are a time machine I, the master of time and space Shifting Like change was nothing And I hold it in my palms I conjure similarities When my eyes open But the mystical becomes lost on me I look forward to closing my eyes Shaking up realities Parting still water seas


