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insomniatrical May 2017
Dear Teacher,
What have I learned from you?

The world is not really as it seems
And now I know what '*******' really means.

I know that the world won't stop for me,
Not matter how bad I wish it to.

That no matter what,
Trying won't get you anywhere, but doing will.

That no matter where,
What I learned is really useful.

That no matter when,
There is always time to read, think, and analyse.

Thank you for teaching me this year.
tc Mar 2017
there ain't nothing
you can teach me
about love that
i don't already know
it comes and it swirls
and it whooshes
and it goes.
there ain't nothing
about life that
makes me want
to live it more
i am here,
i have survived
i have broken down
gun shields, climbed
opportunity walls
but at the end of
the day, i sit back
i watch the sun
sometimes i am jealous
because it lives
for no one.
maybe there's some
things, you can teach
about heart break
and why dying has
become so synonymous
with it.
please try to teach me
love
and life
i need a better
perspective
i am losing
my sight.
JAC Feb 2017
If life is death's coping mechanism
Love is life's way to say
"Sorry about all that, friend.
Here, have something good in the end."
And it will be no fun sometimes
It will hurt as any journey does
It will teach you, learn you, sear and burn you
But when life gives in to death's warm hand,
You'll know you've loved, and it'll be grand.
A follow-up to "A Brief Explanation of Life and Death". Thankfully, it's not nearly as dark.
Just Rachel Jan 2017
Use heart,spread light
Receive such,make right

Teach love,hold true
Help man,new view

Dream found,hate go
Prepare world ...high,low

Soon gather,rise fast
Believe,know..best -last
Missed you guys...I've been dealing with some personal things,hopefully be on more regularly <3
Colm Nov 2016
I'm a professor who professes to teach beyond the textbook lessons. To approach the very essence of the creative self-expression,

Known as man and known as woman. Call you to a higher ed concessions, to appoint the very purpose of this presupposed oppression,

Of your eyes, and of your mind, I wish you to the other side, of the unguided and unknowing creative self which lies inside.

Cause what is life without perspective, and what are trials if you do not try, and strive beyond your own horizons, and slide down the back of the other side?

Will there be shadows on the road, yes, will you trip and stumble, a couple of times, but never let yourself be doubtful of the potential you hold inside,

To create the future, sculpt the present, and tread the clay where it resides. Because in class is where I see you, but in this life you use your eyes,

To see the self-inside of others, to recreate what's on your mind. To be the difference and the vision, you have the tools to go and try,

And share your view of the horizon, survive the frustration in stride. Become creative in your endeavors, and you’ll bring joy to me and my eyes.
"What these things have in common is that kids will take a chance. If they don't know, they'll have a go. Am I right? They're not frightened of being wrong. I don't mean to say that being wrong is the same thing as being creative. What we do know is, if you're not prepared to be wrong, you'll never come up with anything original -- if you're not prepared to be wrong. And by the time they get to be adults, most kids have lost that capacity. They have become frightened of being wrong. And we run our companies like this. We stigmatize mistakes. And we're now running national education systems where mistakes are the worst thing you can make. And the result is that we are educating people out of their creative capacities."

-Sir Ken Robbins
Rachel Keyser Nov 2016
They call it scholar talk. It’s not better than home talk, it’s just different. It’s for school.

Like her, they start saying “goodness gracious” when things get crazy. Like someone else, they continue saying “**** ***** *****” when someone bothers them.

Do you feel like you spend a lot of your time disciplining?  
I feel like I spend all my time disciplining, she says.

One boy tries to jump out of the window of her classroom.
Later he tells her that if he doesn’t get another nice teacher he will **** himself.

But lots of kids say they are going to **** themselves. It’s the one threat that gets them one-on-one attention in a class of two dozen.
The school psychologist tells her she needs to manage her classroom better.

Her first principal is fired for abusing her disabled husband.
Her second principal admonishes her for mentioning that **** sapiens originated in Africa.
There are too many religious parents here to teach evolution.
“Where are you even getting this information?” he asks her with a straight face.

One day, in the fall, she cries amidst the chaos. The next day, one student tells another,
“Don’t you dare make my teacher cry again.”

She picks them up on the weekends and takes them to middle school basketball games as a treat. “You can even meet the coach if you behave,” she says to eager 2nd grade faces.

They read about fairytale princesses, and they ask her, “She’s like you, right Ms. Andrews?”

White ***** is hurled at her as often as chairs across the classroom. But come Friday morning they sit silent in their seats, hoping to earn lunch with Ms. Andrews. She gives out certificates, prizes, and free activities, but kids cry over not making “lunch bunch”.  How am I doing today? Am I doing good today?

There is non-profit prestige in moving to West Baltimore. Fresh fruit, new winter coats, and new laptops for every student. Within days, the new computers are slammed against desks and the dictionary covers are ripped off with bicth scribbled inside.
At least spell it right, her final plea.
New stuff doesn’t matter that much when they’re angry all the time, she says to the one school social worker.

What would be the single most helpful thing someone could do for these families?
Birth control, she answers.

Babies are celebrated, at birth. They are a temporary lighthouse.

Some of her students have multiple siblings who regularly visit Johns Hopkins for birth defects. Some of her students are heads of their households, walking their younger siblings to and from school every day. Another teacher gets in trouble for giving out free condoms to 16-year-old girls, many of whom are pregnant.

I honestly think you shouldn't get more welfare after two children, she says. I don’t think many of these babies are conceived out of love.

It’s painful for her to say that. It’s not what you learn at a prestigious liberal arts college. Not when you’re a progressive liberal aware of social constructs and institutionalized power hierarchies. Especially when you chose TFA because you really are committed to working in education policy.  

But you are beating the odds, because Baltimore has one of the highest TFA dropout rates in the country. Though 72 percent of all TFA teachers leave teaching within 5 years. The five-week training program and lack of connection with the community were not enough. Or maybe it’s because they never wanted to be teachers in the first place.

But, they ask, “No one wants those jobs anyway, so who would be there instead?”

Is that really the right question?

Another TFA friend recently quit because he started having panic attacks and losing weight. I’m pretty miserable, she says, but I know it’s for an end. Still, I go home and wonder,
Am I making a difference?
*Referenced from a conversation with a current Furman L. Templeton Preparatory Academy teacher and TFA Corps Member.
fresh-outside Oct 2016
If I can ask one question to the moon and the stars in the universe
"Who is wrong? Is it me? Or him?"
And if you say, "Yeah, you are wrong."

I just want to say that im not.
I'm not doing something wrong.

Am i asked you to make me feel over like friendship feels?
Am i asked you to make me feel that im the only girl who really wanted?
Am i asked you to take all of my minds over you?
Am i asked you to make me feel like theres a million billion electricity over mine?

No!
I do not ever wanted all!

But you did!

I dont know how to say sorry, so I said thank you.
my mind says that its just a poem, but my hearts not
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