Tuesday 9:00 AM by Denver Butson

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet

It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn't even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

This is my favorite poem. I heard it on "The Writer's Almanac" one morning on my way to school last winter. It really resonated with me. I was reminded of it this evening because Miriam asked what my favorite poem is. She had to ask for a homework assignment. I was about to tell her something by Robert Frost or Emily Dickinson but then I remembered this one. I couldn't remember the title of the poem though and it took several minutes of google searching on my phone for me to give up. I knew I had heard it on "The Writer's Almanac" so I went to their website and searched the archives until I found it. Now I'm posting it here partly to share it with you, but mostly so that when I want access to it again I can find it without spending 20 minutes on the interwebs.

Come Again?

I took a math placement test at the university yesterday. Two people were already in the testing center when I arrived. One of them finished her test about 10 minutes after I started mine. She brought the proctor to her testing carrel after she was finished. She said to the proctor, "Is there an easier test I can take? I don't want them to put me in the lowest math class but that test was a little bit too hard for me."

They say there are no dumb questions, only dumb answers. That has to be an exception to the rule.

In the Wake of Two Failures

I am sad.

Appreciating the View from the Other Side

I may have mentioned before how Dad spent most of every evening of most of my childhood helping me through my math homework.  It was pretty arduous but Dad was unfailingly patient.  If I didn't understand how he explained it at first, he'd come up with a different way.  And if I still didn't get it, he'd come up with yet another way.  And when I cried and wailed that I would never, ever survive, he didn't give up, he didn't walk away, he didn't wash his hands of me.  He just got me through it.

Recently Miriam has needed more help with math homework.  Tonight we spent close to an hour finishing the last eight problems of her homework.  She didn't understand the first two times we went through it and I struggled to come up with a third explanation.  It took a while for her to get it but she finally did. 

During this time I came to appreciate, on another level, what Dad went through with me.  It's tough being the kid doing the homework, not understanding what the teacher said earlier, forgetting the tips in the textbook.  It's a different kind of tough to be the parent who helps.  To see the answer before the problem is finished.  To want the child to understand why the problem works the way it does.  To skirt around what seems like a very obvious answer so the child can figure it out herself.  To wonder if the child really grasps the concept and isn't just nodding and smiling along.  That's tough.

So tonight, while I've always been beyond grateful to my Dad for all his years of math help, tonight I understood from the other side.  And I am even more grateful now that while he was teaching me math, he was also teaching me how to help my own children with their math.  If it weren't for my dad's guidance and excellent example, I wouldn't be able to help my own children.

Thank you, Dad.  I love you.