It came home every day, just like a child coming home from school. Of course it never actually said anything but its presence on the kitchen table silently screamed, "I'm home!"
Every evening and all day on Saturday The Box stayed on the kitchen table, its presence a constant reminder of an overburdened profession. When the table was needed for a meal, The Box would temporarily move to a nearby counter or to the floor but it was always close by. Then, every morning it would depart with a flourish just as the children, whose work it contained, left their homes for another day at school.
The Box was an unremarkable cardboard container about 18 inches long, 12 inches wide, and 5 inches tall. It had probably once been used to package some type of classroom supplies. I came to know it as the teacher's homework tote. It was nearly always overflowing with paper: paper covered with math problems, handwritten stories, worksheets with blanks filled in (or not), spelling tests and, always on top, the blue teacher's grade book.
The Box contained the extended, after-hours work necessary to provide students, parents, and of course the teacher, with the precious feedback on the effectiveness of the day's efforts. After spending his day with the creators of The Box's contents, our kitchen table became the teacher's evaluation site. While his children played, did homework, and especially while they slept, their dad spent quality time with The Box, preparing its contents to return to school the next morning.
Eventually we succeeded in banishing The Box from our kitchen table on weeknights, even though it usually returned to take its place on Saturdays. In exchange however, it's owner spent less time at the kitchen table himself. The Box still had its demands and, when it stayed at school, the teacher stayed longer also, seldom leaving his desk until at least two hours after his students had vacated theirs.
The presence of The Box became a fact of family life, symbolizing the imbalance in the ratio of time to task. It was the source of subtle stress, a constant reminder of work never completely finished and rarely caught up. Like clothes in a laundry hamper or dishes in the sink, the contents of The Box replenished themselves faster then they could be graded and returned.
The Box no longer occupies a place at our kitchen table or in our family life. While we miss the presence of its owner every day, we do not miss The Box. However, we will always be grateful for all those who are willing to live with the companionship of their own teacher's tote, whatever their version of The Box may be.
