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Knowledge is something To be obtained with a price For some it's quite easy Other's just can't get it right   Some want to finish with honors For others 'just ok' is enough
I am at a  lost Striving to be creative After being taught to filter After having my mistakes stigmatized My originality unsuitable for the classroom My voice silenced in my own education  
  I walk into my classroom I look around Teachers everywhere I hear echoes saying, “Grow up. Grow up. Grow up. In reality, Focus. Future. Focus. Future.
I am a listener; Talk fluently so I can comprehend. I am a writer; Make out your statements, so that they be clearer. I am a studier; Assign me the exact topics to look over.
  Teacher, teacher, don’t you understand?
Open your eyes and see me My needs and weaknesses And strive to help me thrive And overcome the obstacles I’m sure to face Within this building  and life itself
  By the drum major's count, four in all, on the down beat of four is where I fall. Four beats, four measure phrases black seats and brown leather cases. Four whole years to figure it out,
I'm not saying you're a bad teacher, Or a bad person in that matter, I'm just saying that the smell coming from you, Isn't pleasant in the least sense. It viciously smacks my nostrils,
  Pressure   Ten thousands tons on my back Can’t stand all that weight im toeing around Ask me to step up my game but I mature a little late so it’s not happening now  
I can't tell my teacher that their class is boring,  but I can tell them that the girl sitting next to me is snoring. I can't tell my teacher to stop talking, but I can tell them that there's a man at the door knocking.
If you would only listen, not just to my words, but to the grammar in my sentences, the quivering in my voice, the lowness of my tone, then you might pay attention to the sweat running down my slouched shoulders, my eyes wandering, that paper cut
Dear teacher,   I know it’s rough because Everything is changing, but still You need to make time for your students As a senior, I don’t want to be here either,
I enter class Just to pass What I need To succeed But, there is just one problem You are not there to help me I try to seek advice And when I do You are not precise
These fractions on the whiteboard Cannot seem to hold my attention I don’t mean to hoard My willingness to learn, yet there always seems to be a big prevention   I want to learn, to become smart
Be strong little warrior my mother said to me. Things will turn up, they will get better, Trust me, you will see.   We may be alone and afriad, living on the dark and cold street.
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