Genre Reflection #2: Rough Cycles

"Hey, Mr. Smith! Guess what?"
The rubber door-stop goes between the acient lackered wood and linolieum.
The bell, having rung, heralds the onslaught, I great the students all by name.
One, two, three at a time.
Then, big as life, bounding in at the beginning of the semester, all smiles, the talker comes...
"Hey, Mr. Smith! Guess what?"
I hand out papers, compliment changing hair-dos and favorite t-shirts.
Your essay was great. I loved that short story. Good morning. How was you weekend?
"Guess what?"
What?
Stories about concerts, questions about an assignment, aparently small-talk, played up for drama
The rubber door-stop goes between the acient lackered wood and linolieum.
The bell, having rung, heralds the onslaught, I great the students all by name.
One, two, three at a time.
Then, slow, not bounding, head hung low, the same student comes...
"Hey," I say.
"Hey, Mr. Smith."
"I something wrong?"
"My grandfather's in the hospital."
And then another day...
"Hey," I say.
"Hey, Mr. Smith."
"Is it your grandfather?"
"No, my Uncle. They say its Cancer."
And then another day...
"Hey," I say.
"...Uhgh."
Work turns out of a lower quality.
The talker is now the quiet kid.
He broods. Others shun
A couple words overheard have me worried.
"We should probably contact his counciler."
"Yeah, he's a creepy kid." The words make me wince to hear them. They aren't mean words to the person saying them.
Another day...
The rubber door-stop goes between the acient lackered wood and linolieum.
The bell, having rung, heralds the onslaught, I great the students all by name.
One, two, three at a time.
Then, dark and dismal, stuck in the rut of early November, he trudges up...
"Hey," I say.
"What?" he says.
"Your grandfather doing alright?"
"Well," looking down. "I guess. He's out of the hospital."
"And your uncle? In junior-high I lost a favorite teacher to cancer."
A nod. "He's fine, Mr. Smith."
"Are you?"
A shrug.
"I know," I nod. "It's tough. But I'm glad your here...
He nods and smirks a bit, goes in, takes a quiz and does alright.
The days go by...
The bell, the rubber stop, "hellos" handed out at the door with the proper names attached.
And then, big as life again, grinning a bit as he walks, the talker comes...
"Hey, Mr. Smith! Guess what?"