366 Poems: March 9th, 2016

The Black Sheep

Today I sit,

a visitor,

in the back of a room where I don’t belong.

It began in August,

when I decided that I did not want to slave away

in three AP classes,

and thought regular U.S. History a pleasing alternative.

But as soon as I walked in,

I knew that something was off.

I saw two teachers:

one desperately trying to engage her students,

the other believing they were already too far gone.

And I saw people my age– sleeping, slacking,

and doing everything they so possibly could

not to learn.

Why am I so different

for wanting to learn?

How am I glorified,

chastised, put down,

just because I can get an A+ on every test?

Is it their fault?

Is it our education system?

And why do I, with my eager mind,

sit in the back of the room with my mouth shut,

wishing that I didn’t have to stand out so much

from the rest of them?

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