It's 12 AM and I've got to correct 1,500 papers.
Copy-pasted researches stacked to the ceiling,
Shadowing my feelings
Towering me like sky-scrapers!
They say those who can - do,
And those who cannot - teach.
I know this might come as a shock to you…
But I can, and I do, and I still teach!
This job has made nothing out of my reach.
I am PONDER WOMAN!
I make my students ponder upon all the world’s wonders…
Why did Shakespeare kill both Romeo and Juliet at the end?
Why is it easier to be yourself – and not pretend?
Why is the earth oval shaped – and slightly round?
Hush! Get back to your seat, and don’t you dare make a sound.
With this pen, all errors are fixed
A cruel X? Perhaps an accepting tick?
I make my students feel like.. Like.. Tens over tens!
I put the world in its right place… with my magical red pen.
Don’t they know? Don’t they know that all prophets are teachers?
That I have devoted my life, my time, and my energy to be their preacher?
That teachers are sculptors who shape their students personalities…
From nothing, into something.
That teachers are engineers who build an emotional base that is safe
For their students to stand strong in case of an earth quake –
That teachers are psychiatrists who can make their scholars love themselves,
Without invading their privacy.
That teachers are candles in the dark that light the way to knowledge
And endless possibilities.
That teachers are second mothers,
Who left their own kids to come to school and work!
Ah! Irony is berserk!
And I know that this might come as a shock to you…
It’s not about the money I make… for what is it worth
If my students are out of my reach…?
I mean, I am a teacher.
I can, and I do and I still teach.