Teacher, Teacher


                                             Teacher, Teacher

                                                                                                                By A.P.A

What is there to say?

That your class is boring and I don’t deserve my grade?

When I take your tests, all my knowledge seems to fade

Am I stupid?  Should I be ashamed? Should I just drop out and start to ask, “Extra fries with your #8?”

I worked, I studied, I did everything I can!

I even brown nosed my way to look like your number one fan!

At first I thought, “Maybe it’s just me, maybe I was the problem and that I needed a new plan!”


“Or maybe I just didn’t understand “


Socrates did not defeat Goliath

David did not drink the Hemlock!

And Tupac Shakur was not a Jewish Holiday

I know it sounded wrong, but it made sense on Midterm day


I did all I can and studied a lot, but it doesn’t show with the grade I got.

I knew my work was not even close to what you taught.

My only excuse was “I guess I forgot”


But what about you, oh faithful teacher?  What about your effort?

When did you ever take the time to see how your students were doing?

Like a bad coach, you remained idle when your own team was losing.


You came to class, but always had an eye on the clock

Instead of teaching you’d pop in a video of School House Rock

And when test day came and most of us failed, all you would think was “What the !@#$?”


You never really tried. When you said you cared about our passing the class, you only lied.

You just wanted to look good in front of the principle so he wouldn’t skin your hide


How I wish you would help me when I needed it the most.

To help me be someone to whom my dad at the dinner table would gladly give a toast.


How I wish you would look out for me and say

With your anger at me repressed, “Armand!

What do you not understand?

Let’s go over the work, I’ll help you pass my class however I can.”


In the end I realized all I needed was a helping hand.


You always made it seem like attention was something nothing I nor you can afford


Teacher, Teacher,


Maybe it’s your time to sit at a desk and see what it’s like to raise your hand and be ignored


Guide that inspired this poem: 


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