—
There’s no feeder anymore: I have to feed myself, while reminding children that Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. With the government turning the way it is, I could crumple this blueprint and start over. Right now, I should be worrying about if I will be able to teach: What will the job market look like in a few years? Instead, I’ve been wondering about how my teaching will affect my future students Will I be able to teach Black History Month without them wincing? Can I teach them about prose and verse because so far I’m only a pro at writing verses. You see, I want poetry to pop for them, That every stanza, every line, has meaning. And everything I teach, I mean— I want to be a good teacher I hope to be a good teacher But first, I have to learn how to teach and what it means to be a good one. In the meantime, you can find me at school in my books With my phone behind them typing away my sorrows. Because trust me when I say, When I teach my English class, and that poetry unit comes in They won’t even know it was me. The only question is, Will that English class run, Or will it only be running in my head?
HEY, TEACH! FALL 2019
08
