I am a firm believer in speaking out.
I have had to pick and choose what I say because of my profession as a teacher, but certain causes deserve attention. For me, those causes include poverty, breastfeeding, and special education. So, today I share I poem I wrote as a metaphor for the needs necessary in public school in special education.
Once I was like a child stepping out in the rain for the first time
without a parent’s guidance. No umbrella, no coat, no boots –
A dance and a jump. I never knew where the rain drops
would fall, for who tries to discipline rain?
I have walked in the rain in all sorts of ways with those
who know those particular ways. The I becomes we, and
we tap dance with barefeet to see water splash upon
rose bushes, to see more water turn a crack in the cement
into a stream, to watch weeds and grass bend because
the water pours, comes up from our feet, and swells the ground.
The rain falls in all ways – sideways, straight down, sprinkle,
with thunder and lightning. We walk through the rain: splashing
through puddles like a game of hopscotch in pink rain boots
with music notes. We make mini-runs from one shelter to the next
until we reach a door. Open a yellow umbrella and go.
Run fast to a place away from the storm, floods, and
a sky lit up with yellow fireworks.
One time I said, “I don’t like the rain. When will it go away?”
Yes, it was yesterday – before I wandered in rain – I sang,
”’Rain, rain go away.'” But, the rain does not wait.
Some people wish they could pick the day like a
business schedule for the rain, but then those people
never really walk in the rain.
In a new place – when I no longer had those with whom I
danced in the rain – I met one with the award of a wise man.
In his tie and robe, he said, “You can enjoy the rain. It’s not for me.”
And, it rained. He hurried. I stayed behind in the rain because
I knew the rain fell elsewhere, too, and more wise men and women sing,
“Rain, rain go away.'”
They leave off,
“Come back again another day.”
By Rebecca T. Dickinson