I recall the days of learning to teach, a journey on the fly,
Delving into the minds of students beyond the naked eye.
Words unspoken found refuge upon the written page,
A former kid myself, aging with each passing stage.
Uncertain at first, my purpose seemed out of reach,
Focused solely on the art of crafting poetic speech.
Memorable were the students, minds so malleable,
Given a chance, transformations happened, session by session, palpable.
One young man, a silent observer without a spoken word,
Doodling on pages, where every story he'd heard.
Guiding him to express the unspoken swirling in his heart,
He grasped my hand, a firm shake, realizing his part.
No push for attention, just relishing in the freedom's glow,
A class where liberation flourished, a desire to bestow.
Easing the stress of middle school, where sharp minds reside,
Teaching them to tap into what I believed was art's guide.
Poetry, a sanctuary, laughter withheld from judgment's grasp,
Expressing love, hatred, sadness—a multifaceted clasp.
Tears flowed freely as a kid spoke of his dad,
In that moment, the profound power of teachers I had.
A child with dyslexia, a narrative to share,
Named me his favorite teacher with a tender care.
A laptop program aiding his thoughts and dreams,
Talent and stories emerged, beyond what it seems.
Offer alternatives to learning, nurture the right mentality,
Never undermine the impact, discover the key's vitality.
In the realm of education, where potentials intertwine,
A teacher's influence is a beacon, forever to shine.