A Story on Students

My students learn so much. They asked me what KKK meant. The school blocked the site. I want them to learn. To expand their vocabulary. To be better than me. To reach their dreams. Not the tests. One told me that they hate school. I agreed. School is not for anyone. School is school. Teachers get paid through passing grades. Kids just pass to get "good job" compliments on the lips of pushers. Principals teach the faculty enough to have them find the answer themselves and erase the mistakes on boards. They all learn. We find the answer. We all hate the system. Teachers are Super Heroes. I'm still a student at the feet of my students. They may never know. Years from now I'll be back to visit. Not because I want to see how they're doing. But to see how far they made it without me. How far they went with their hate for exams and made it into a getaway. I will worry. Not because I'm scared but because I care that they care. I got a note. "Thank you for staying by my side". It was scribbled in pencil. I thought they never knew the gifts they give me make me put them in my pockets and "Ok, thank you. Now go sit down please". No job was given to me to take care of them. I'm taking care of me. They're just my instruments of knowledge. My books. The pages that are writen daily. They're my "bible". A book I follow. I'm hard on them because they succeed. I know them, I know how they are. Well, no that would be a lie. I know how they can be sometimes. I stay around because they gave me gifts. I've gotten stickers, shiny pencils, thank you notes, and hugs that keep them warm even in the weather Miami holds. "I hate you". I know they do. Somehow they turn around and run up to me, give me a handout that turns into "it's my birthday". I know it is. I love our secrets. Simple words teachers will never understand. "Look what I wrote". That's great, I wish I was as creative. Imaginative like they are. Thinkful like they are. Moving like they are. "No, don't call my parents." They're not home. I am though. You can come over and have a meal. "So if we come over we can listen to explicit music? Cool". Yea, that's cool. "That's my brother". Yea, I am your brother. I didn't ask to be. "I wish you were my brother...Can you be my brother?" Sure I can be whatever you want me to be. "Ok, well don't tell anyone." I pinky promise. Will you do your work? Good, keep it up. Keep it up. Keep you up and I'll stay down on my knees. Climb on my back and I'll never fall down. "What is five times twenty?" "Wow, he's smart." I'm not. You are. "Whats City Year times City Year?" Power. The power to ask question and search them yourself. Come back when you have an answer, then we'll come up with it together. "Yes? Your hand was up, wasn't it?" "No, I was just stretching." Good one. I love laughter. Oh and did I forget, tag "you're it!"