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You told me I couldn't You called me stupid You made a "what not to do" example out of me And here I still stand   Can a stupid kid graduate high school with a certificate in Graphic Design?
Don’t mind me I’m really ok I just don’t want to be awake All I ever do is make mistakes Don’t find me I’m running away I just don’t want to be Someone like me
I always wonder how to do things the right way My teachers tell me to be “creative” “Think outside of the box” But my box stretches further than the sky My box stretches wider than the sea
I want to learn, But not what is being taught. I want to know How to live before I learn About my mathematics, My sciences or my literary devices. Why should we know about
Laughter fills the room as sadness takes the floorDrowning a couple of pills to feel some type of waySmoking to smoke the pain that way
I cannot say what I wish to say. The words stick in my throat. You don't question me; I don't tell you. Perhaps if you asked, you would know. But because you don't ask, I'll die with these things inside of me. These words I'll never say.
School is a place where I love to go, Where I stare at a board so my mind will grow. I love it so much I could go all year, Yeah, that's right, no sarcasm here. I love how I learn just what my teachers say,
Stuff  I Can't Say To My Teacher What many things they are ,
My bag is a boulder Ready to break my back. What's a social life you ask? I have long since forgotten now that teachers dictate mine. "School is more important." is what they drill into your mind.
You rub the sleep from your eyes and paint on a smiling face. You put on skin tight clothing to pretend you have no waist. Jump through hoops just to fit in: Look like models, show some skin.
I am not a number. I am not a rank out of my class, which is a bummer. I am not a number on a four-point scale. I am not just a student, and I like to rebel. I am a person.
Always last in Gym Class, I Never stood a chance in Debate. Immediately chosen for any Group task, That science Fair was a piece of Cake. Teachers love me, Oh how they praise me. Others not so much,
Everyone’s a rebel, we all want to change the system. We all shout until our throats are sore but the government won’t listen.   School funding is paid by the local property taxes.
Dear Mr. Teacher, you're not a high and mighty preacher. Your facts are wrong and your grammar's off, but to get an A, nothing is ever enough. I work and I study but to much dismay,
I can feel my mother’s warmth, holding me close from the other side of the wall. Her nails reach for me, as she scratches on the bathroom door.
Roses are red, Violets aren't really blue, But that doesn't really matter, Because homework sucks, And so do you. I hate this class, I hate this pass, I can't even get up to take a piss.
A tear falls down. Just one, then two. I hang my head to hide my face, But I know he stiffens, closes off, turns away, Avoids seeing me as he makes his rounds. Round and round the papers go,
Our education system has got to do better. I know nothing is perfect, but we can not go on like this forever. Kids using profanity instead of the intellect God gave them.
Living in this small community, You think you know all that goes on. The one hallway school Knowing each student on a personal level You think you know all that goes on.
I love reading. I really do. When I was a kid, I used to curl up on my bed with a three hundred page book. And then I'd wake up in the morning and the book would be gone, finished.
T'Was the Christmas season, Where a little boy glees with reason. He's filled with joy, As he waits for hid favorite toy.   The little boy couldn't wait, but it was just too late.
Bite your tongue and if you can't then I 
I've had excellent teachers in my time. Some with good looks Some with easy tests Some with interesting lectures. But you, you're different. I should have looked you up online to see how you were.
I can't do it! Everytime I try, I Fail! You keep pushing, But you don't understand Everytime I try,
What I learned in high school…
Allow me to clear my throat first Ahem, Fuck you, English Teacher, with the same capital F You gave me on that paper you refused to accept I know my ABCs and my punctuation
I go to school almost everday, each day to learn. Your job is to teach us, use that degree that you have earned. You tell us that you care, but when I am seeking answers you are no where to be found.
  We sit for hours in a cramped seat
I entered your class and you said I should not be there.
I often wonder why we feel the need to number our world in order to succeed. Our intelligence is measured on a 4.0 scale, no chance of college if our SAT’s failed.
B's are good, A's are better Teachers of America, please read this letter. I know your job is to teach what they tell you, But not all knowledge is found in a textbook. Inspire, bring fire, make me desire 
How Should I know The workings of society the reasons I act the way I do and the consequences when it's me versus you I want to learn Learn the revelations of the greats
There once was a boy named Pat And on the front row he sat Try as he may It just wasn't his day From behind him a boy took his hat   Well Pat turned around all mad Told the boy he had been bad
Perfect straight unbending rows All lined up one by one Cookie cutter spoon fed facts Untill our time is done
welcome to hell. it is also sometimes known as high school.      
Who are you to tell me what potential is? The groomed, upstart young children Getting ever luckier While the rest Wait For their chance to shine and blow it When they realize they’re so behind
Your voice is like a whispering breeze, the sound of sweatpants rubbing. Swish, swish, swish. Choke. Why are you stopping? Keep going. Teach me something. Speak louder! Or have you
don't teach me for grades teach me for knowledge
Numbers, books, words, they're all related in a way It all relates through school I must say Some things just don't make sense And yes I have spent most of my life in school Some may call me a fool
We see it every day We’re reflected in each other We're all bullied or hurt And then one of us leaves.   Whether we’re AP Students Glassy eyed from sleep loss Not really learning, just
  The Point of Being   Transition It has all converged So long I’ve yet waited and so fast departed
I run from the truth As I refuse to believe That we as a race Are choosingly blind To the struggles And desperate pleas Of today’s teenagers.   Let me ask you,
Keep on failing you'll end up being a failure of life, My mind views it from a angle-lized distance, How my very own teacher is pushing statistics, Not realizing every individualized mind is different,
frusterated .. miserble .. that is my school life .    teachers on the other hand makes my world go upside DoWn. with their i dont think so, and NO you cant  ughhh... this is miserable..  teachers these day.
Dear Teacher, Dear Teacher My hand is up! Dear Teacher, Dear Teacher Must I stand up?   Dear Teacher, Dear Teacher Why won't you call on me? Dear Teacher, Dear Teacher
The students Walk down the hallway And toss the  Vagrant's gold On the ground   Meanwhile   The man leans On his broom And eyes humanity With a sordid look
Words of honey can lead to arrogance, And words of vinegar often sting.   It is your job to educate and enrich,
Judge and be judge. Welcome to high school, where this rule won’t budge. We all try to be that one-in-a-million; Well good luck, in this world of four fucking BILLION.
Bullying:   Breaks the spirit of the vulnerable, As a china dish shatters when smashed against cement   Breeds insecurities, depression, sorrow As a public restroom breeds disease  
Stuff you can't say to your teacher is...  hello your class is very boring & half of your class is snoring You're not teaching the material right & I hate the way you write Your breath really smells
I wandered around for as long as I could rememberSpring, Summer, Fall, WinterOops! Did I just messed up on the sequence of seasons?Oh yes I did! Now what can you do to me,O great teacher?
Words can hurt, Especially those that are not intended to. “Bullying” they call it May not be so obvious as it seems. Every day Kids walk through the halls Smiling on the outside,
Whispers and Glares Look back and Run Down the hall to the left
Oh what things I wish I could have said; That I would taste rolling on my tongue; The sweet and sugary words of not so cliche; And the sour spite of not feeling wrong.
Sh*t I can't say to my teachers?I can't say that you're only here cause your tenured inI can't say I can't stand youI can't say you can't teach, but you say I can't learn 
waking up on a monday morning is shafts of bright light shining through my window and the knowledge that today, i'm not only shouldering the weight of the darkness that plagues my thoughts, but a few textbooks, too.
Do you realize the things you say? Do you know the memories won't ever go away? What would I remember If you died today? You think the little words don't matter Or a slap in the face after
Yes, I am fully aware that my cleavage is exposed. No, I do not care. Yes, I know that it is against school dress code. No, I do not care. You claim that it is distracting to the class to be “indecently exposed”
"You need to learn to manage your time!", Say all the teachers, sharing the same paradigm that all students are the same and learn at the same rate. This is not true. This is the one things we truly hate.
Fear   Possibly the biggest four letter word   The future I fear   Rejection I fear  
Chased down the halls, Laughter pounding your ears. Kids yelling names your way. As you run, you grow smaller.  Fianlly, Find your favorite teacher. Plead for help,
The Great Depression, Or the market crashing down Nobody cares! What?   Adding matrices, Or microeconomics We all could care less.   Holden Caulfield? Ugh.
Bellowing. I could hear it all the way from where I sat, halfway down the hall.
            Why am I Here? The answer is not clear. He has no lesson plan or teaching material. He has never prepared notes or even a PowerPoint, so I ask, “Is this for real?”
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