To teach

Ms. Ms. Hailey. 

Come Ms. 

Ms. I need your help 

Ms. why didn’t I get full marks?

Ms. turn on the AC.

I like your shirt. 

I hate your class. 

This was the best. class. yet. 


To teach is to create change. To inspire. To lead

Or at least that’s what - they - teach us. 

They don’t tell us about the mood swings, the paper things, the teen flings and all. the. Strings.


The string of excuses from students, parents and administration alike. 

The string of questions left unanswered, returned with only blank stares.

The string of hope that we cling to as we watch hours of planning crumble at the feet of Tiktok trends and new boyfriends.

The string of assignments that we hang from as we dangle from the cliff of exhaustion, red pen in hand. 


Our heart strings - pulled when we hear about the struggles at home. 

Your entire identity and purpose - in question. Your place in this world - unsure.

Our heart strings - yanked when we hear what you say about us. 

When all we ever wanted was to help you find that identity, that purpose, that place in this world. 


We find ourselves trying to make sense of it all, untangling these strings to redefine our motivation

Our purpose, Our place in this world - our place in this classroom 

How can I do better? How do I help them get better? 

Looking for answers, we grasp at threads

But on Monday, when we startle to the sound of our alarm 

That thread is what will drag us out of bed. 


Dragged forward by innovation, inspiration, education and internal gratification

We find ourselves piecing it together. 

Holding it together by thread, by strings 

Stringing together context and ideas to form connections and aw-has

Awh ha, I get it. 

Awh ha, I’m worth it. 

Awh ha, what’s next?


This poem is about: 


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