How can I fix your heart, if you never drop your guard
How can I fix your heart, if you never fall apart
How can I, how can I, scare your ghosts away
How can I fix your heart
How can I fix your heart if you don’t let me in
This is a tale of forgiveness. This is the story of a girl with an “authority problem,” c-range student who could have been a 4.0 if she had just tried hard enough, darkness boiling under her skin to such a degree that “personal journal” assignments always ended in the teacher asking her questions like “are you okay” but never with a real degree of concern, just professional double-checking as if reminding her that her left shoe was untied instead of saying “it looks like you are unraveling.” This is the story of being under the radar in every year of school because no matter how good she got, she was never the best, and no matter how bad her nights were, in the daytime there were still students with more shock, more awe, more danger signs pointing towards their temples. This is a small girl being constantly overlooked, this is having exactly eighty-four detentions by the end of her sophomore year for truancy alone because class for her was an uphill battle that tasted like sulfur and missed homework, this is a help-wanted sign pasted across her report card with every single “unexcused absence” she spent hiding in the library, trying to convince herself that next time, she’d show up - this is being too smart to ever fail a class no matter how much she didn’t come, this is being too stupid to ever bother catching up. This is hating every single moment she spent within those walls, hating the sound of chalk and projectors and markers and pens on paper. This is a girl who in seventh grade and a serious Catholic asked her God to take her math teacher’s life just so she wouldn’t have to face the overwhelming reality of class the next day, this is not being ambitious enough for the gifted track but too smart for the slow one, this is the story of being perfectly mediocre and because of that, always being looked over. This girl is me, twenty, and going back into the jaws of the lion.
I’m going to be a teacher.
I will never make a child feel like I did. I will never be the cause of burn scars on brainstems, I will never make a child think they’re stupid or they’re not capable of learning. I will never make them feel unheard, unwanted, unwelcome. I will see their warning signs and refuse to let them brush off my questions. It takes one bad teacher to poison a subject for a student, and I’m going to do my best to reverse every pain they’ve felt. It will not be about lectures or tests or the state standard. It will be about them, about their education, about their future. They will be important to me in the way I never was to anyone else. They will never feel left out. My class will never come before their mental health. They will be safe as soon as they enter my room. This is not a jail cell, it’s a hotel, a haven, a place they can finally leave their home life behind and relax for an instant.
There will be no under-the-radar children. So long as I live, I will fight to the death to be sure that what happened to me never does to my kids. I hate school, I hate this system. I hate the idea that not flunking is doing well enough. I hate the idea that being smart is rewarded with more work. I hate so much about the politics and the standardization of education that even my poetry isn’t enough to contain it.
I’m going to teach these kids to fall in love with learning again. It’s not about memorization. It’s about discovery, and it’s about time we started teaching like we have passion instead of adding more poison, started treating it like a war instead of a profession. These kids are going through hell, so let’s give them something to fight with.
this has a deeper meaning. the light bulb represents an idea of an individual and the mouse trap represents how quick society is to destroy that idea.
are you fucking retarded no its just a lightbulb falling on a mousetrap shut the fuck upGuys idk what the meaning is but if it is what the first person said you’re kind of proving it right. She said her idea and now you’re judging it, just like she said society would.
woah^I fucking love you third person you are perfect