I love the arts that have no name,
Like teacher’s decorations:
Their creativity and joy
And all the endless patience
That goes into the worlds they make
Within their classroom walls —
The color and the order, and
The winters, springs, and falls
That come into crepe paper life
To reach out to young hearts.
For teaching can be drudgery
At least at times, in parts,
But still, there is much art in this.
With number, and with letter,
Comes love of colors, learning, and
Of making kids’ lives