Not a favor for you to be here,

Not gracing me with your presence,

Not joking when you instill fear,

Just crushing the dreams of adolescents.

 

Every day a new threat,

Every day a questionable comment,

Your behavior hasn't been addressed yet;

Just once, teach me the intended content.

 

A midterm is a cumulative test

Where all students must strive.

Told us an average person would get an average grade,

Then honey, as our teacher, why did you get a seventy-five?

 

You told an African American

That you would put him on your “black” list…

You may need a new regimen,

Your words are like a cracked fist

 

Worn from too many years.

Tenure has never been so hated

Causing far too many tears,

A high school phenomenon, in your name, created.

 

I should not have to say:

A woman with a music degree,

In a classroom with calculators left out in dismay

IS WRONG.

 

This predicament you stand for,

Such a failure we can’t even explain,

Making high school an age old war

One which puts a strain on the brain.

 

Not a music teacher with pit stains and a mullet,

But an inspiration who stands at a pulpit

Based on the foundation

Of educating a generation.

 

I don’t want a teacher.

I want an educator.