Idealistic, Realistic, Pessimistic

Idealistic
Yeah, I’ll change the world-
put power as knowledge into each boy and girl.
Hurdles are nothin’
we’ll soar above them,
roaring we will beat our
enemies—we’ll out race them.
Slay all the dragons
of poverty and racism.
We’ll win, World --you bring it on.
I’m armed with enough love to charm
any single demon that walks in
will be unarmed.
Classroom of misfits,
ain’t what I see,
We’re a band of heroes,
Olympian family
I’ll get ‘em all
motivated to grow
no excuses, high expectations
and we won’t plateau.
Shadows of others
won’t bring me down
deaf to the naysayers
whose rainbows have turned brown.

Realistic
Damn, this job is hard
the hippie’s retreated
a warrior’s in charge
still full of love, job’s full of reward
but the bounce in her step’s
been replaced with a sword.
If something’s not working,
I guess I’ll work harder,
these kids still need me,
and I can’t feed ‘em fodder.
They still deserve the best
that I can offer,
lessons from Midas
served on a gold platter.
Still, I’m starting to feel like
I can’t do enough to matter
Want to adopt all these sons and daughters.


Pessimistic
Remember the days I thought I
could do it all,
stormed into the schoolyard head high, walking tall.
But the world has chewed up my
babies and spit them out.
Drugs and pregnancy,
jail time and doubt.
They don’t believe what they did
just a year before, and they’ve got no one
to open up a door—
No assets, just asses leading them in the
wrong direction, and I couldn’t be there
to protect them.
And those in my room, graffiti and steal.
Call me a bitch,
don’t care how I feel.
Reeling, the tears glisten as they tell me
matter-of-factly
they don’t have to listen.
Still, I work harder through sobs,
as my boss tells me I’m not doing my job.
Five years now, and I’m the best teacher
yet, but feel wounded and poisoned
like a Vietnam vet.
But he must be right—so few call me mom.
They’d rather brawl in the hallways
and sound the alarms, spray paint
the bathroom and call to arms.
Throw up drunk in my room,
call me a cunt as tell me to
"Get back in my room.
Bitch, don’t you have some teaching to do?"
Excitement’s lost, stomach’s knotted
why am I trying when I can’t
accomplish?
Want to reach all, but teach to a few
the strong and aware,
Those who still see I love, and
how much I care.
For them, I walk tall and plan for each day
putting on a fake smile that’s
withered away.
Don’t want to admit it, am on the defense
but the naysayers now are starting
to make sense.