Teacher

I sit here upon my rock along the urban trail, reflecting on the night just passed. I'm a teacher, you see, and a good one, I know. But I have to think and wonder just what it is, I know, and whether it is worth, passing on. The night that's just passed, marked the semester's end, and as the students processed out of the final test, I shook their hands, and wished them well. I received their thanks and compliments, and gave back, appreciative thoughts. I have been through this exercise, so many times, that I feel almost, a forgery. A mockery, a raving stereotype, a Mister Chips,"To Sir with Love", a pompous flackery, who's just completed a song and dance, a maya illusion, with a cursed ability to portray a past that never was.