I just want to say, before you start reading, teachers are amazing. I've had some truly inspiring and beautiful teachers change my life, and I'm so grateful. They deserve our respect. But I'm voicing my concern and hope for a change for any teacher who looks at a student and only sees a child.
~Qii
A school is a haven.
A place one can play.
A home for learning.
Or so you say.
I wonder what you see
through your own view.
A class after class?
Just room after room?
There's so much more
I wish you could see,
dreams wanting nurture,
locks missing keys.
But instead of astonishing,
mind opening acts,
you chose a whiteboard,
an old book filled with facts.
I ask you,
since you seem to know
so very much,
what has more potential
than a young mind
in need of your touch?
Why do you think
it's just one more student
when it's a human,
a future,
one who thought that
they couldn't?
I just want to know
if you see the dark circles,
the tired expressions,
the hands stained dark purple.
That's your work, your impact,
should you be proud?
These kids with their ideas
still waiting
to be found.
That was your job.
To notice,
to pride,
to encourage,
to smile,
to be on our side.
But you weren't there.
Just masses of homework,
exams to prepare for,
regret that will lurk.
You didn't straighten our shoulders,
you added to the load,
textbooks and duties,
no seeds that you've sowed.
And that is what hurts,
that you didn't try,
we were just another student
you'd let pass by.
Now learning is torture,
and we hate our school,
which was said to be home,
but was just a place
full of rules.
Look what you've done?
Those once precious minds,
once big ideas
are now not yours to find.
They no longer exist.
You've crammed into our brain,
mindless formulas, definitions,
ones we'll never retain.
And you know that,
you do,
for you've seen it happen,
but do you care?
No.
You just let it trap in.
And one day,
when we've been through
A-levels and SATs,
you'll ask what our passion is,
and we'll ask,
"What's that?"
That'll be your fault.
There was only one thing
you were to do.
Help a child's looming dream
be able
to come true.
YOU ARE READING
Feathers: A Book of Poetry
PoetryA pencil is the spotlight of a soul. It tells them its okay to overflow. It tells them ideas are art, and that the best ones are masterpieces. Feathers is a collection of poetry by me to convey the beauty and undeniable strife of the world, and emot...
