To one teacher we are little devils, little imps,
But to another we may be little cherubims.
As you see, my class has many a variety:
Mischievous, intellectuals, as well as the sleepy.
But this variety is what makes the world go round.
I do not like a class that is too sober and sound.
Seriousness does not make a mind care-free and easy;
Instead, too much seriousness can cause insanity.

They said
Don’t wear leggings
Or a shirt that shows your cleavage
Because you need to be covered up
You’re a distraction

They said
Don’t use your period as an excuse
For male teachers to let you go to the bathroom
Because you’re not fooling anybody

They said
Don’t shave your head
Boys can
You can’t and don’t
And won’t because we’ll suspend you

They said
Watch the length of your skirt
The color of your hair
The shoes and makeup
The piercings
And they call that fair

They said
Come to us if something is wrong
if you’re feeling bullied
if you feel unsafe
I guess they don’t remember asking my friend and I
if we heard of anyone in our year with suicidal tendencies
They asked us because
We were the sensible ones
The bright ones
We couldn't have been depressed.
I guess they didn’t see my panic
and my hand squeezing my wrist.


Because school
Is not a place
Where you can express who you are
School is not the place where you feel safe
It's a battleground on the outside of your comfort zone.

School isn’t about education
Its a challenge, competition
Its a measurement of your capabilities  

But what if you don't excel?
You’re called out for not being good enough
You're humiliated. Mocked.

You get looked down on
Judged
Embarrassed
And you don’t get your
Degree

As if a degree explains who you are
What you’ve been through
How much you’re worth

As if a degree
Measures the capacity
Of your heart
And your knowledge

And a teacher can share your grade
Make a joke and smirk
Cause they think you’re not worth it

And they can laugh and yell and call your parents
Who don’t think you’re any better.

Because year after year they’ve been led to believe
that you’re easily distracted
that you don’t do what you’re told
that you’re rebellious

Because even if you showed respect to the hypocrisy
That you can't help but notice,
They still won’t understand that you're just fighting
for what you believe is right, for mutual respect.

Because that’s not what you were thought.
You were thought to raise your hand when you want to speak.
And even if you made a valid point
You would still get lectured on putting your hand up when you want to speak.
Discipline put first.

**And that is my definition of school

Stress.

























































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Oh, and education, I guess.

As I do every day,
I sit in my silver Altima;
Joss Stone serenades
My damaged soul,
Lifting my spirits as I turn the volume
Up and up,
Drowning out the jeering throng of my peers
And my heart's own anguished cries.

The halls of school are long as life
Through each door is struggle and strife
What kept me up and standing tall
Is the sight of you just down the hall

Trying to do well but knowing you can't,
Always trying to impress dressing for the best.

Getting called up in class waiting in line,
This feeling I get seems to twist up my insides.

You'll pick on me in class trying to catch me out,
But I'm stronger than you think won't knock me down.

My friends waste their time on boys and clothes,
Me I'm over here auditioning for shows.

I know it's for the best but can't help but overthink,
What it would be like if I'd never met you and all your links.

This place will be the thing that'll break me,
But I won't let it fill me because this is what I think,
I'm a balloon floating through the sky,
You won't ever catch me I'm far too high.