Mother of all Head Colds ,
sinuses exploding, more than
         usual wanting to mind my own
business, just to drink

my tea before non-stop classes begin,
        even passing over ominous reference
              in Principal's "L-S Weekly"
to "multiple transitional changes"
   a-comin', oh great, when on this

rainy morn I bump into a
  colleague crying in hall, Christine
Andretta, firedhey, it had to be she
           who went whole distance for her students,

and made a difference, strong personality to be
         sure, and so interesting, leaving behind many
 who really couldn't carry her bag, but a better
            "fit", I suppose, and so she is

informed with a message left on her phone
        machine, not a month after
her mother's death, then asked to
         mount the scaffold 10 minutes before

she teaches on this drizzly day,
    oh sad day for L-S, this dank day
      with the question naturally posing
itself, "Gee, fellas, couldn't you have

figured out a better way to handle this
                     dark deed?"  And I listen to
     the new building going up outside
           my window, all the clanking, knowing

from his moment, 8:12 am, March 21,
       Friday, 2003, it can never be as great
            as the place I knew, not without
the soaring spirits of the difficult
     wonderful ones like
            Christine Andretta.

All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
Contact Bill Schechter