"Valedictorian"

The word sings in the ear 

Pierces the senses

Calms the soul

Stokes the fire

Gives a warm hug

Throws me to the ground

 

Am I proud?

Of course

So why the mixed emotions?

Maybe my goal is not:

To "always be on top"

To "be the smartest kid"

To be looked at every time the word "intelligent" leaves a teacher's lips

 

Maybe I'd rather be seen as valiant,

And not one who is senselessly dangerous

But one who is a harbinger of justice, mercy, and kindness.

Maybe I'd rather be seen as a dictator,

And not one that trashes the thoughts of others,

But one that literally dictates in a way that changes lives.

Maybe I'd rather be seen as a historian,

And not one that simply documents history

But one that creates it.

 

You see, the word "Valedictorian" is a box, not an earned title,

That classmates reserve for the

"Try-hards," "the nobodies," and "the anti-socials."

Don't put me in a box on a shelf

Because you might find that it falls on your head.