Desks protected us
from a Soviet missile
back in the sixties
as much as barricade bars
guard against Americans
— please tell me different
dextajean rodriguez
dextajean
Dexta Jean was raised in Arkansas, but her maternal ancestral home is Puerto Rico. She is a poet, a painter, a pilgrim, a mother, and a new Gigi. She also takes her conceptual art pieces and travels the region delivering "art sermons." She considers both poetry and visual art as powerful conduits to initiate discourse on the failings and celebrations of the human condition. Dexta Jean teaches college writing and is a doctoral candidate in the field of art leadership. She loves to laugh and sit among her ferns, hostas, and koi in her peace garden.
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 8
backpacks stuffed into
lockers — patiently waiting
to be overturned
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 7
Inch worms and bean sprouts
windowsill curio shelf
growing the future
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 6
The apparition
of barren playgrounds
helicopter seeds
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 5 (prompt – use 5 words)
sunflower peeping
cheddar slice in pavement crack
knitting oaks cast shade
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 4
I march bravely into the unknown. The silent room slowly awakens. Gentle go the lights. The teacher’s words draw my eyes. A quick reverie amidst the sounds of squeaking sneakers and slamming lockers.
tapping the window sharply
robin interrupts
wisps of fluffy clouds
One-by-one the cacophony of voices bounces, slinks, shuffles, and skips in the room.
announcing their arrival
their unique flight call
migrate together
My cape catches the breeze from the rotating fan. I quiet the rising din and rise. They perch on the edge of their seats.
snapping my phone it lingers
patch of bright faces
purple clover blooms
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 3
Colorful fliers greet them upon entry. Promises of utdoor games, slip ‘n slide, snow cones, a semi-scary movie, and prizes for best costumes. Sister Sledge on the intercom. We are family. I’ve got all my sisters with me. We bebop to the music. She balances neon-colored cupcakes and his bouncing topples his black hat. The procession halts so he can reattach the white skull sticker that she had taped on just moments before. Fake hook in the air, he hops up to tap the glass box that hangs next to his classroom for good luck, he says. She hurriedly places the bakery treats on the table already overloaded with individually wrapped Twinkies, single servings of party mix, bags of tiny pretzels, caramel apples crammed into cellophane wrappers and tied with raffia bows, personalized brown lunch sacks filled with popcorn and boxes of fruit punch juice pouches. She tries to catch his eye before dashing out, but he’s greeting his friends: Ahoy, matey! The first bell catches her in the doorway.We are family. Get up everybody and sing. Living life is fun and we’ve just begun to get our share of this world’s delights.
this be for monsters
he said with a one-eyed grin
glass still unbroken
Subbing in America: Hour 2 (prompt: Robert Frost)
* Trigger Warning: Violence *
the static crackle voices break
the heavy air still shrill with hate
sweat, blood and screams pierce through his soul
the darkest evening of the year.
he gives his radio a shake
to ask if there is some mistake.
the only other sound’s the sweep
of easy wind and clanging gate.
the school is hollowed, dark and bleak,
“but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep.”
*Embellishments on the words by Robert Frost in Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 1 (prompt: swimming)
* Trigger warning *
blue invitation
best friends for life she tells her
both swimming in red
Intro
Hello! I’m Dexta Jean writing from the foothills of the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas. I believe I have participated since 2014. I will be exploring the topic of substitute teaching in America and using variations of haiku. The state of contemporary public schooling has been eye-opening to me, who never attended public school until I was a junior in college. I did, however, raise four sons in the public schools. I anticipate some of the poems will be about school shootings. I was subbing on the day of the Uvalde shooting. Even though I was 700 miles away and one state over – also a state very attached to gun-ownership – I hurt for the reality of fear we have created. I lament lost childhood.