Ms. L

I'm not going to lie.

Sometimes adults underestimate me.

I'm not going to brag,

But I'd like to think that I'm a little more mature than my peers.

Yet I'm always told that I "would never understand."

I don't want to put myself on a pedestal,

But a little recognition would be nice.


I try to be independent.

I try to push myself.

Sometimes I feel like no one will ever notice.

Sometimes I'm not good enough.

I don't want to come off as self-centered.

But acknowledgment would be nice.

A "you've worked hard," would be nice. 


It's always the adults that I have to please.

And it's always the adults that never see.

It's always the adults that have high standards.

And it's always the adults that have low expectations.

They're like the voices that keep me up at night-




Maybe they are the voices.


But one day I met a woman by the name of Ms. L.

I thought that she would be like all the others.

Stiff smiles and prideful answers.

For the first few months,

She was nothing but a teacher,

An adult that just told me what to do.


When one day she talked to me.

I thought that I could just smile and wave her off,

But we then we talked about culture,

then religion,

then family.

And for a moment,

I felt like I was an equal.

I didn't feel the condescending attitude.

I didn't feel the judgmental stares.

I thought that it was just my imagination.

Because why would an adult care?


We talked again.

I told her of my dreams.

I asked what were her's.

I told her of my fears.

She told me her's.

I told her of my love for children.

I told her about my plans for the future.

"You're very intelligent." She said.

"You're curious." She added.

"You're mature. I admire that."

I admire that.

No one has ever admired me before.

I had to turn to the side to wipe my eyes because

Someone admires me.

She noticed.

She noticed my hard work.

She noticed my passion.

She has recognized that I'm not just a student.

She has acknowledged me.

And I felt accepted.

I felt understood.

An adult has finally taken the time to realize that

I'm able to have a mature conversation.


Ms. L cares about me,

And all she did was take a moment to talk to me.

And yet, 

In those short exchanges,

I've come to trust an adult.

This poem is about: 
My community


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