You scribble concepts for all to see, Back to the classroom as you walk through the equation.  The board is full of color but my mind is clean and untouched, empty of any knowledge you were supposed to convey.  The value in this lecture is palpable. It took centuries of our grappling, our groaning, our grieving to earn those numbers. I understand the sacrifice others made to uncover those whispered secrets hidden within the folds of our universe.  But you spit on those millennia spent trying,  turning your nose up at mastering the material  instead of putting it to the grindstone. This classroom is not the place to worship our elders and pay homage to their accomplishments. Not to you.  No. The only god you glorify is gluttonous,  the same god that seduced you with security and branded your name on the school's payroll. The adoration you hold for this false idol condemns you to a mediocre life of Their servitude.  You do not concern yourself  waging wars for wisdom or wonder.  Your sole desire lies  in warring wages from our city district.   You disregard our need to learn in favor of your ardor.   So while you glorify your deities  through prayer to the treasuries they come from,   I will stare at the scribbles you put on the board.  I will stare at your back facing us in the classroom.  I will stare at the holy language brought to you in fits and dreams  and know nothing about your fervor but that it consumes you.   You did not become a teacher because you wanted to teach.  You became a teacher because you needed the money.   And to you, money is the only blessing you recognize. Education be damned.