At the end of period five
a well-worn pair of brown flip flops
were left near the trash can
by my desk.
They belonged to my student Phil,
who wears the same brown
flip flops,
no matter the weather,
no matter the occasion.
Clearly Phil must have
kicked them off
during reading time
and never bothered to put them back on.
Was it forgetfulness?
Laziness?
A prank?
No matter,
I knew Phil would be back.
The boy needed his shoes.
But lunch time came and went.
And no Phil.
I was certain
he would rush into my room
complaining about having to wear shoes,
telling me that he left them in the room
because he felt like going barefoot,
insisting he liked the cool concrete floor
pressed against his heels and toes.
Hadn’t someone stopped Phil in the cafeteria?
Told him he was not allowed in line
or at the table without shoes?
Hadn’t someone insisted that
shoes be worn at all times,
or else?
The final bell chimed at 2:35.
Classes were dismissed for the day,
but Phil’s flip flops remained.
I could have picked them up
and deposited them in the lost and found,
but I thought, no
Phil will be back,
so I left them there, undisturbed
near the trash can
by my desk.
In the morning,
the flip flops had been rearranged
into neat parallel lines.
The night custodian must have felt compelled to
straighten them thinking they were mine,
that I had left them there.
I consulted my homeroom students
who somehow know everything about everyone.
When I asked why Phil never came back for his shoes.
They told me he had a second pair of flip flops
tucked inside his backpack
exactly like his old ones
which were near the trash can
by my desk.
The Way I See It 