He stands by the board

Small and fraile

For some strange reason

He keeps on through the viel

He mumbles his lectures

He stumbles upon remarks

Once you miss a moment

You might as well be in the dark

 

He stands by his board

Runs his hands through his hair

He finds himself clever

His cheesey jokes

They once would be halarious

But now they just stare

He speaks fairly quick 

For a man of his age

But his words are so soft

You barely hear a phrase

 

He stands by his board

Strange markings all over

You look at it, stare

You just can't even bare

You scrape by with grades

He teaches a math

But this math is a science

Chemistry is his domain

Now, it is your pain

 

He stands by his board

Looks upon his class

Wonders if they listen

Their grades seem to reflect so

But he wonders if they listen

They laugh and giggle

He sits and looks around

Texting teenagers

Laughing girls

'Why do I do this to myself'

He would ponder

Soon he'll even forget that answer