Yalitza Rascon

Shit I Can’t Say To My Teacher

Mr. Anonymous,

Are you aware of the pink bubble gum that resonates under your desks hidden in shame, just like all of my dreams you’ve categorized as unworthy?

I Am.

Mr. Anonymous,

Do you recall the day I cheated for a student, and you were too blind to see the real situation before you?

I Do.

Mr. Anonymous,

Did you know I was bullied by another student to cheat for them and you punished me anyway?

I Did.

Mr. Anonymous,

Do you realize that for the duration of that school year, you looked at me with dishonor because you honestly believed I did it out of my freewill?

I Did.

Mr. Anonymous,

Did you know notice how pained my demeanor was when you approached me about the missing cell phone, you thought I had taken?

I Did.

Mr. Anonymous,

Are you aware I am still waiting for the apology I deserve when they ended up finding the phone in their desk?

You should be.

Mr. Anonymous,

I know you never thought I’d graduate high school, yet here I am handing you my graduation announcement.

I Am.

Mr. Anonymous,

You don’t know it, but I needed to have told you I was bullied that entire school year.

I Regret.

Mr. Anonymous,

Maybe then, you would have believed in me, maybe then you would have understood. Maybe then I would be different.

Now I’m different. Considering…