It’s routine, everyday
I walk into
first period:
Research Methods.
In room 617—
Hidden well
by the blue-green
dragons
of our
“dungeon.”
It’s joyful,
seeing you in such glee
on the days
following a good night’s
sleep; as I wishfully think,
we may get the
project extended!
And in the background,
Miley Cyrus’ voice
is escaping thy
laptop’s mouth.
My judgment
is proved wrong, when
you gruffly cry:
“I only got three hours of sleep last night.”
I stare around, gazing
dejectedly at my peers,
all hope
drenched from my mind
thinking of
another sleepless night,
of hardwork
to finish the essay
that you have assigned.
At 7:25, halfway
through another day’s journey,
you crack a joke –
finally, but
a lame one,
I must admit,
maybe about proteins,
or have you advanced to
photosynthesis?
I laugh anyhow,
just to get on
your good side.
And argue your point made,
no matter how
wrong I am,
for I know
that’s the only way
to earn your respect.
In return
a headstrong student,
a realist
has been made
with goals of dominating
the world—
I’ll be sure to
include you
in my autobiography
as I rise to
ultimate power.
Just because you taught me how—
Dear science teacher.