Wading through piles of student papers
Strung like snowdrifts across my living room-
Why don’t I use the office for this?-
I search grudgingly for the stack
Whose owners patiently await their most recent grades,
Before the next essay is due.
As I hand back flutters of white paper snowflakes,
The red ink streaks across the vision of my students
And startles them with its ferocity.
They were sure they had not made that many mistakes.
And their eye drifts onward, searching,
Seeking the positive comments to balance
The shock of those red numbers at the top of the page.
12 November 2008