Pedagogue
I taught for the kids that smelled like campfire smoke,
For the ones who grunted and twitched and
Looked at the tops of their worn out shoes,
For the ones whose parents stole their Pell money,
For the ones whose stories were so bleak
They could not possibly tell them without dying,
For the ones who came once a month
To get their free bus tickets,
For the ones who’d never had a bank account
Or travelled more than fifty miles,
For the ones who’d never read a whole book
Or ordered a meal in a sit down restaurant,
For the ones who were told they were stupid,
Slow, challenged, worthless, trash,
For the ones who would never get social cues,
For the ones who would disappear
With a week left in the semester,
For the ones who thought they were dogs,
For the ones who asked for Chinese water
Dragons as their comfort animals,
For the women whose husbands beat them
For coming to school.
I taught for all of them as if we were
In one big classroom where something
Miraculous might happen any day,
And sometimes it did.
About the Author: Tim Peeler’s most recent book is third part of the Bryar Trilogy, a verse narrative collaboration with Appalachian photographer Clayton Young.
Image Credit: American Red Cross “Children in Classroom” Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 