Thank God it's Friday, say the Teachers Everywhere

She's mulling over an idea while sipping wine
with thoughts of all the rest and fineness she
can pack into the weekend, but she's contemplating
class on Monday, facing once again the boys who made
her cry today with so much chatter, wouldn't listen,
acted like the lesson didn't matter, didn't care. She thinks
she'll have them stand, not for a vocab bee but see
just how their little brains are working, pull a fast one,
then begin to cull them one by one. Those under 18,
have a seat, want me to treat you like a child, then chill
for now, just watch, or take a nap, it's early, after all.
Still standing and demanding explanation? Let's define
"respect" - you act as though it's optional, elective,
something you can show or not depending on your
mood or how you feel today. For children, maybe,
everyone will cut them slack, but you don't want to
be considered thusly, rather you desire a justly respect
from others, think that you're adults, and grown, while
never owning up to the responsibilities of being gentlemen
and ladies. Do you really want it? she will ask. She'll say
that they will never get it raising hell (or Hades) 'stead
of listening, working, answering the questions, being
quiet when required. She's tired; it was that kind of
morning, though the afternoon improved. The rudeness,
she is thinking, it's the rudeness she can't take.
She's grown to love them, but they can not see it,
wouldn't want to if they could, it's easier to keep
her at a distance. If she follows through there're just a few
who'll get it, realize the trap she's set, that if you do not show
it, you will never know what it is like to have respect,
be treated kindly, humbly, learn from others. So much
easier to blindly stay in childish ignorance, remain
just as you are right now. The world is full of stunted
adolescents who still think that they're the center
of the universe, unswerving from the notion that
the rest of us will always owe them something,
they're entitled, they're just humoring the rest
of us by deigning to show up for school. She laughs,
and knows her thoughts are getting dark; the sky is too,
and
soon she'll sleep and they will fade away.
By Monday, she'll be glad to see them, try again.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015