Go ahead,

Pat yourself on the back.

You’ve set yet another class up for failure.

And averted the blame from yourself.

 

While you watched football games,

And pretended to grade papers,

We cried.

We struggled.

We strained.

And the fruit of our labor amounted to nothing.

It was disheartening. 

It was humiliating.

 

Your accreditation,

Your qualifications,

That piece of paper with your name in fancy script,

It means nothing to me.

To us.

 

Because it’s crystal clear that you don’t care,

And that you’d rather be somewhere else.

Teaching something else.

Teaching someone else.

 

When more than half the grade fails a test,

And you had one job,

To prepare us,

I think we can safely say

We didn’t fail,

Because we didn’t give up.

 

You did.