Sometimes I think, what makes me wiser than them?
I stand in front of my class and fancy this notion
My bachelor’s degree?
My master’s degree?
My 4.0 graduate GPA?
My endless love for literature and the greatest minds of our generation?
There are 7 boys, 5 girls – ages 16-17
They always absorb everything I teach
They listen, really listen
They take notes when they’re supposed to
They converse in an expert way
They question further
They fall in love with fictional characters
They love Puritan literature more than I do—
So I wonder, in my high-heels, tights, pencil skirt and button down
Glasses stretched out on the bridge of my nose
Pencil in my hand
Hair pulled back – tight
[I play the part well]
Knowledge stuffed into my skull
What do I know that they don’t?
What did I do right in my lifetime to deserve them?
This worries me immensely
They thank me for teaching them as the bell rings
Some days, most days, I want to thank THEM for teaching me
These children make me believe that there is still hope
The youth still does value english, poetry, writing, history
These children still want to fight for more knowledge
They won’t say “No”
They are determined
And they strive to show me
Strive to prove
That the amount of care in inside of them
Makes them bust at the seams with brilliance
It is true that sometimes I can only move forth and keep my sanity
Because these students are what make me get up everyday
What give me the energy to move forth
What give me the confidence to be better
What create waves that are so strong
The earth can feel the vibrations from my teaching
So I ask myself – what is more important:
1) A profound love for literature that is embedded in one’s soul
2) Caring so much about what a teacher teaches
And then I realize
These students are my teachers
And we are what we love
And what we love lives within us
And spreads like fire takes to gasoline
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