rules for the classroom of living

then:
in november 1972,
as a very young, very exasperated teacher
i bark at the unruly boys
who comprise my language arts class—
stop your noise right now.
get out a piece of paper
and write down the rules
of this classroom.

1. ban a pipcol
2. pal of tin skin
writes one young man.

i decode
his dyslexic encoding,

1. bring a pencil
2. pay attention

==

now:
in november 2025,
no longer in a classroom,
no longer as young as i once was,
i gather with friends
for lunch on a crisp wednesday
to connect, 
to celebrate.

we give voice,
each of us,
one, then another,
over and again,
collectively, 
to being here
to being now,

ban a pipcol
pal of tin skin

—dotty seiter

=====

=====

Notes about poem and art:
• “rules” is a tender reflection on the when and where of lessons that pop up repeatedly in the unfolding of my life, often in different clothing.
• The Smallest Agreement is another mood-mini inspired by Cynthia Hauk, honoring the pull I feel to reduce my pace, narrow my focus, and drop anchor. This piece began with washes of watercolor paint, followed by a few random wandering lines along which I wrote a short journal entry. I was well able to reduce my pace, narrow my focus, and drop anchor, but I’m not sure what word I might assign to identify the mood behind this piece.