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Poem

Chalk dust swirls, a constellation of knowledge.
The classroom hums with potential, electric.
Each mind is a universe, expanding, colliding.
Every lesson plan is a map of uncharted territories.
Every student teacher is a seed bursting with promise.

I see curiosity flickering in earnest eyes,
passionate souls wading through seas of theory,
and watch epiphanies bloom like sudden sunbursts.
I smell the sharp tang of inspiration and doubt
and feel the weight of shaping future generations.

Each eager question demands an answer
and irresistibly ignites my wonder.
I breathe in dedication and exhale guidance.
My experienced hands gesture through pedagogical labyrinths,
guiding novices with eyes bright as morning stars.

But I am not content with mere instruction,
I seek to kindle flames that will burn eternal.
A forest of ideas, methods, and transformative moments
surrounds me and offers a world alive with learning.

Slowly, my carefully crafted lessons yield their secrets,
stretching minds in all directions.
I dissolve into a grove of educators, chalk and whiteboard,
into textbooks and technology, into the open minds before me.

My role I had considered fixed and defined
takes flight and soars with a thousand possibilities.
I grow limitless and merge
with this luminous tapestry of teaching and learning,
united with the endless cycle of education.

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