I met my favorite student yesterday.
You know her. She’s the one that’s wicked sharp
and makes me feel like I’m a dunderhead.
I must admit that I have always been
in love with her and all my favorite kids
who fought with me and argued, called me names,
and practiced sharpening their claws, their minds,
on me. She didn’t really need a fool
to lecture her, pretending to be wise.
A broom forgotten in the corner would
have taught her as effectively as me.
My favorite part of teaching was when I
would simply lean against a wall and watch
my students tear apart and solve a task
that other people thought impossible,
that was impossible for other kids.
I’ve never understood those teachers who
are threatened by their students, are afraid
of being dumber than the kids they teach.