I have long since resigned myself to the idea that my hands will
always be ink-stained after each class. Other teachers finish their
classes with immaculate digits, but for me it seems impossible. My
pinky finger suffers the worst, as I trail it on the whiteboard in
order to steady my hand for writing. Classes take their toll on the
side of my hand, the quick eraser I use to impulsively rub out
scribbles when the eraser would take too much time to locate and use.
Even the whiteboard eraser refuses to cooperate. As my fingers grip
the edges of the eraser in order to swiftly clear the board, tiny ink
particles are transferred to the once-white part of my fingernails. As
I wash my hands to remove the traces of ink, I wonder if I should wear
the stains instead as a matter of pride.