Reflections on a "Spring" Day

This morning I crossed the Kitaura Bridge
And came into Kashima,
As I do every morning,
But my BLUE RAV4 was buffeted
By screaming winds
On this, a most troubled morning.
Yesterday we crossed the Vernal Equinox
And came into spring
As we do every year.
But this time the springtime calm was shattered
By the uncanny tumult
Of this, a most troubled year.

Nature is twitterpated, and yet grim;
Her palette shows an odd artistic eye.
Magenta plum trees beckon toward the gym,
And overhead a baleful, steely sky.

The wind is like a wendigo tormented
With driving rain, and it is bloody cold.
An insane end to March, or at least demented.
Perhaps the past year's story is being told.

We're gathered now to say a fond farewell
To this, school year ought-seven to ought-eight.
To many it is more like, "Go to hell."
It's finally done, and man...we couldn't wait.

Some years just seem to turn out to be cursed;
The problems that pop up are just bizarre.
The teachers sometimes find themselves immersed
In crises much, much bigger than they are.

Speaking of which, I have to wonder where
The other members of my grade have gone.
I look around but no one else is there;
I'm all alone with the 7th grade throng.

The speeches start; I think so far so good,
But soon I find it's too good to be true.
Just when I think they're listening as they should
I hear a *smack*, a head whacked with a shoe.

It happens once again and a third time,
But I can't interrupt the principal's speech
To put a stop to this ill-mannered crime.
For now at least it's well beyond my reach.

And now a boy in back has started flinging
Spitwads at a better-behaved lass.
I make a note of who I will be bringing
To the staff room; they're all in the same class.

The MC says, "Kiritsu (起立)," we stand as one,
Then, "Rei (礼)," and we all bow ; I heave a sigh.
But even before the last words are done
The fists have already begun to fly.

I dive through the spectators as they gather
And yank the two young miscreants apart
Then haul them to the wall knowing I'd rather
Just bang their heads together for a start.

But I can't do that, so I merely lead them
Back to the staff room for a conference.
My adrenal glands are there just when I need them,
But the adrenaline just fades away at once.

I finally leave them to their homeroom teacher
Then head off to the music room to drop.
9th grade graduation is the day's real feature,
But my desire to go fell with a plop.

The good 9th graders really were a blessing,
But sadly they were only very few.
So many were so unbelievably testing,
Enough to make most of the teachers blue.

Well, now they're heading off across the campus
To haunt the far halls of the senior high.
I'm sure they'll do their best still more to plague us;
Whoever deals with it will not be I.

I listen to the ceremony o'er my coffee,
And feel thankful this troubled year is done.
But as I sit here both relieved and weary,
I know another year has just begun.

Hopefully it'll be better than the last one.
And hopefully that near-typhoon screaming outside won't wipe out ALL the blossoms...