The Lonely Side of the Lectern

by William Heath

Any good teacher has an ideal
of the perfect professor who can teach
anybody and inspire everybody
to want to learn, so when you walk
into a class and all you see are
droopy eyes and folded arms
you tend to blame yourself.
You want to bring them to life,
give them some of your own blood
if necessary, but what’s the point
in donating blood to vegetables?
You come to hate your students
as some doctors hate the terminally
ill who make them feel inadequate
by refusing to respond to treatment.
I’d rather teach the mentally
challenged, formerly known as
retarded people, who at least try
than these zombies who waste
my time and their parents’ money.