.
What is it like, standing invisible in front of a class? Does it hurt your heart knowing every student looks through you with mental ear-plugs? Do you feel like your life is dripping through your clenched fingers like suffocating raindrops?
I would.
Put those drops in a glass. Don't waste them, you only have so many. You're watering the linoleum with your monotony. I would be watering it with tears--tears for time ticking by without kissing a single person's heart. Don't you miss it? Don't you miss that time? It could have been so meaningful. It could have changed lives, thoughts, hearts... Instead, it's tossed to the breeze like wish-less dandelion fluff. Students work on homework or plan their schedules while you speak. Can we call it 'speaking'? It comes off as a mechanical drone, memorized and spewed out every other semester all for a paycheck. I want to cry for you.
Is this the future you wanted? When you were out playing soldier-hero with your neighborhood best friend, did you aspire to be a distant impersonal lecturer? No. No one would desire to be dull and ignored. You had passion at one point. You dug it up with the earthworms before casting your line into your future. Where did it go? You dropped it on the way to the fishing hole. Now you're here with the world's tackle-box and a cemented lawn chair.
But your pond is drying up and you're catching nothing. You need to go back. You need to crawl on your hands and knees until you find that muddy, trodden passion. It's still there. It's crying, waiting to be held and attached to your fishing hook. You'll catch something. I promise. So why aren't you moving? Why aren't you seeing? Why aren't you living?
Oh professor. Pause for a moment. We won't mind the silence...it's much the same as your lecturing. But in this pause, answer my question--internally, externally, written with chalk...I don't care, but answer it. Your soul needs you to. Your passion needs you to. Your dry dwindling future begs you to. Answer it or at least take a precious second to think it.
Are you who you want to be?
What is it like, standing invisible in front of a class? Does it hurt your heart knowing every student looks through you with mental ear-plugs? Do you feel like your life is dripping through your clenched fingers like suffocating raindrops?
I would.
Put those drops in a glass. Don't waste them, you only have so many. You're watering the linoleum with your monotony. I would be watering it with tears--tears for time ticking by without kissing a single person's heart. Don't you miss it? Don't you miss that time? It could have been so meaningful. It could have changed lives, thoughts, hearts... Instead, it's tossed to the breeze like wish-less dandelion fluff. Students work on homework or plan their schedules while you speak. Can we call it 'speaking'? It comes off as a mechanical drone, memorized and spewed out every other semester all for a paycheck. I want to cry for you.
Is this the future you wanted? When you were out playing soldier-hero with your neighborhood best friend, did you aspire to be a distant impersonal lecturer? No. No one would desire to be dull and ignored. You had passion at one point. You dug it up with the earthworms before casting your line into your future. Where did it go? You dropped it on the way to the fishing hole. Now you're here with the world's tackle-box and a cemented lawn chair.
But your pond is drying up and you're catching nothing. You need to go back. You need to crawl on your hands and knees until you find that muddy, trodden passion. It's still there. It's crying, waiting to be held and attached to your fishing hook. You'll catch something. I promise. So why aren't you moving? Why aren't you seeing? Why aren't you living?
Oh professor. Pause for a moment. We won't mind the silence...it's much the same as your lecturing. But in this pause, answer my question--internally, externally, written with chalk...I don't care, but answer it. Your soul needs you to. Your passion needs you to. Your dry dwindling future begs you to. Answer it or at least take a precious second to think it.
Are you who you want to be?
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1 comment:
This is much how I felt throughout college. This exact person is actually a character in my book.
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