You can read part 1 here.
During break time I took up my pen and sat in silence
Writing nothing because nothing came to mind:
No plan for the lesson ahead; no plan for anything besides;
Nothing to end the torment spinning in my brain.
In that time I desired to know only one thing,
One thing alone I deemed important enough to learn:
Why should I have a plan for my students, for my lessons,
When my teacher seems to have no plan for me?
Then began my journey of great discovery
With fire born from anger and no guarantee;
When I arrived in the next classroom with no papers
And a book that I had all but burned in my rage
The students were unable to contain their glee –
Which must be something that wears away over time
And with age, for never have I summoned such excitement
Since my youth, and long ago it seemed as joyous children
Paraded around the room bubbling and carefree;
It made me realize how odd it is to find
That when my teacher has no plan it bothers me;
In that overwhelming moment I felt I had to
Teach the children how to escape from their cells,
So I told them of the teacher and His betrayal
And in turn made them little versions of myself;
In their young minds the teacher’s image became
One He never would have painted on His own.
Afterwards, they knew nothing but hatred for the teacher
(“That monster!” they screamed in their anger,
“Are we a class that He does nothing but ignore?”
And though I did not wish for them to suffer any further,
They were caught within the emptiness I had created.
“Look! See how He leaves us in the dark without a torch!
Why does a teacher allow pain within His classroom?
Why does He present nothing helpful to us?”)
Though I could not hope to provide them with any answers,
I had created a group of doubters with great ease,
Moulded from my own doubts to spread disease;
When those students are older, and should their fury remain,
Then that responsibility will be mine and mine alone,
For that morning when I sat inside my classroom
Watching the students engage lazily with their task
Became the morning that my teacher saw my fury
And decreed that I should never be content.
© Laura Marie Clark
Excerpt from the book “City of the World”
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