A Bit of Whimsy – on Teaching

I received the question the other day, a bit out of the blue, a question quite telling, demanding and true. What have you been doing, the question asked, since we kicked your ass out of class? You went to Italy, for two weeks you see, although most of us saw it going on three. But you grew, we assume, in travel and such, mentally while preparing to repay us in stories to munch. Italy was acceptable, to miss all those classes, as we understood you were paying your dues, in your travel across Europe, to make yourself better than you.
But what were you doing, when you got sick, and all those classes piled up and sticked? Into the realm of teachers who didn’t care, and into the craw of the administrative staff who bared – their teeth in anger that one might dare pass, into the valley of those that might not be better than you.
You are sick, you say, with your doctor in tow, needing treatment for wounds we can’t sew? You must be absent, for things not said, as we smell the ground for a lies early tread.
A lie we can’t find, so there must one be, as we continue to account for our life’s work, you see. We can barely believe we matter so little, so we must continue the matter so bitter. Legalities of confidentiality are damned in the foresight, as we search out someone to crucify in the limelight. Our glittering hair and teeth all so shiny, we only render what won’t take flight.
We are used to those spineless and weak, with lots of cash with which to sharpen our teeth. We laugh and make fun of those with an accent, as we spin our chairs and spill, our big gulp cherry sodas that we gulp to fill, the loneliness and irony that so bares our souls, as we bounce on our balls and answer our phones.
Our greatest fear is one who makes us weak; force us to be accountable for what we speak. We know not the rules, not how to help out; our only ability is to shout out. This is your school system, in its deep truth, grinding and hoping you won’t seek out the spooks – of humans, who no longer are, only now existing by the most base of gods.
The god of the understaffed, the perilous and weak, those who cannot find the teeth; to rid the system of those underfed, who feed off the bellies of those students underfed, ignored and without a regular bed.
Those are who we as teachers must fight, and against whom we must, we MUST unite. For they will kill a system just faltering, and for whom hope is just morphing – into something beautiful and bright, which will give EVERY student a chance to take flight. Out of the black and into the light, these students who deserve every such opportunity, to fight.

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