April 8^th, 2025 A true story in poem form from my high school classroom.

Weekend Laundry

I have this student in my class

It’s only Tuesday, and he asks what my plans are

Not for class, or the evening

But for the weekend

I tell him of dates or outings

Things that have been

Counted on for a while

I ask him what his plans are

With a smile, he says, “laundry”

Now, when I was fourteen

My weekends were more than

Just washing my socks

But then again, they weren’t

Much more exciting most of the time

Then watching dryers spin

It is a bit of a sin for this young fella

To always reply laundry is his big plan

I asked him on Monday if he got the big pile done

So, he could move on to something fun this weekend

He said, “Nope”

Now, it has become a running joke

As he always says, “laundry”

Like an old man who has nothing else to do

And I say, “I hear ya” or “right back at ya” or “me too!”

And we fist bump to seal the solidarity with the mundanity of our adulting

It made me pause today when talking about spring break next week

I asked what his big plans are

His reply came world weary, “laundry, always.”

I thought about this middle child of three

Growing like a weed and hauling his sweat-laden clothes

To the nearest laundry mat

He probably takes two buses for that

Drawing by Christian Diaz.

Come to think of it,

He often wears the same clothes

Day after day

The only time I really notice

Is the day they aren’t the same

But that is a short blip

Like that, one day is too much

For those fine threads

Perhaps they are worn

On a day between the washing

Of those most familiar

Same pants, shirt, socks, and light jacket

That I see daily

He and I are worlds apart

But I think he figures I have lots of laundry

As I come dressed and pressed

Clean every day in something

That is one of many outfits

With colors and patterns

It is unmistakable that I changed my clothes

For weeks without repeating much

He figures I have to do laundry sometime

I envision him waiting for his clothes to be done

He doesn’t like to wait for the bell to ring at the end of class

Yet he does his own and perhaps his little sister’s laundry

Every single weekend

I hope over spring break

He gets his laundry done

And he can go have some fun

And smile, remembering his teacher

She is probably washing her family’s clothes too