TEACHERS ARE MENTORS AND ROLE
MODELS IN OUR SOCIETY TODAY
PASSING ON WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE
IN THE MOST CARING WAY


IN THIS TURBULENT WORLD THAT
OUR YOUNG KIDS FACE TODAY
THEY NEED MENTORS OF STRENGTH
SO IT IS HARDER FOR THEM TOO STRAY


FOR THERE ARE PEER GROUPS
THE INTERNET SNAP CHAT AS WELL
THERE IS THE INFORMATION OVER LOAD
AND FUN STORIES TO TELL


GONE ARE THE DAYS OF ROMPER ROOM
MR SQUIGGLE AND THE FLOWER *** MEN
NOW OUR CHILDREN AT SCHOOL
HAVE TO LEARN AND DEFEND


BUT SOME LUCKY STUDENTS HAVE
COMPASSIONATE TEACHERS THAT ARE NEW
WITH SKILLS AND WISDOM
THAT THEY SHARE WITH YOU

it was impossible to teach:
the savage creatures wanted not,
they didn't want to follow rules,
as, they believe, it was too cool,
as their memory was low,
and they all wanted to go home,
as their memory was high,
and they all wanted to say "bye!",
and they decided to revenge
onto the teacher, as they could not
pour all their anger onto others,
the teacher wasn't their brother,
and their counselors were far,
and they could not revenge the lawyers,
and they could not revenge the Laws
that have entrapped their claws and paws.
    Ivan Petryshyn

I

School bag, blue shirt, hair parted on the right,
Daal-rice, clock ticking away in delight;
Cycles stop, wagons with seasonal crop,
Get to her class before the gates shut tight.

II

The obsession froths beyond the eavesdrop,
Secrecy brews a moral of Aesop;
Friends don't yet know, the fear that the eyes show,
Grows the need to shout it from the rooftop.

III

Geography is boring, the maps tow
Useless details such as where's Kosovo;
It's all pretense, the absorption intense,
But her attention sets the world aglow.

IV

The wistful heart struggles to make some sense
And accept pain at misery's expense;
Then her comment, and the motives ferment,
The surging tide sweeps over the heart's fence.

V

Evening is drunk with sunlight, the day's spent,
Menthol erases the cigarette scent;
She fades from sight, the mundanities write,
A long ride back under the clouds' intent.

It's time for a tale of my school's counseling system
And how it effects the students within
So to all of the counselors who ask "why don't they come to us?":
Here are the stories we take to the bus

First of all, it happens that you're never in
And without you there, how will they talking begin?
We get that you're also the hall monitors
But the way things are, you won't even let us be heard

And honestly, don't even get me started
On the stories students had once they departed

I had a friend, C, who's a bisexual girl
And, of course, that yields problems in this world
In middle school she dated another girl
In the "oh my gosh, we're holding hands" sense of the word
And one day, when it became all too much
C told her counselor about the dating and such
A day later, C and her bae were called in
And, I should note here, bae's parents saw the rainbow as sin
Turns out the counselor had told both their parents
That their girls were dating, despite the problems apparent
After that C never saw bae again
And that is how counselors treated my friend

My bestie, S, had many problems at home
She would avoid being stabbed by running outside into the snow
So one day she went to talk mental health
But her counselor gave her something else
When S, a philosophical joker, mused the meaning of life
The counselor told her it wasn't worth the strife
The woman told her that she had not place on this earth
And general statements that were all rather dearth
And S thought as she walked out an away
"What if somebody suicidal walked in today?
At least that's not any kind of issue for me."
And that's how our counselors treated my bestie

The final anecdote is a bit personal:
I'm the girl who did this, after all
Things had been getting more tense at my house
My mom's shouting outbursts made me want to vanish like a mouse
Even on a vacation to Virginia Beach
These problems always happened to be within reach
And afterward my mom would try to make things smooth
But her words only made me more and more confused
So I went to Mr. R after months of stressing
Hoping I could find solutions to a problem that was pressing
He told me I should be honest with my mother:
That I should tell her I saw as terrifying what she saw as a bother
So I did just that in the late afternoon
Wishing it to work, but not raising my hopes so soon
And of course my words fell on deaf ears
My mom told me I was irrational for my fears
And later still, in future nights and future fights
My mom had a new verbal weapon: yelling at me for my fright
Saying "don't you cry, I'm not hitting you"
It took me the rest of the year to figure out what I could do

But there is one thing that I hold dear
Given to me by my counsellors here
For if my counselor hadn't said that to me
You wouldn't be reading the poems you see
My way of dealing with my problems was verse
At first in note margins, than this site on the virtual universe

So to all you counselors who asked why students never come to you:
We've found other places to do what we need to

every now and then
I receive emails from former students
with pictures of their newborns

each time
I am deeply touched
that they feel
I would like to know
about their lives’ great events

I reply with loving mails
congratulating them
wishing them much joy
    and patience
with their adorable offsprings

it is just nice to know
that the people
whose lives you shared for a few years
are doing well

over the past weeks
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen
remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and of those never-ending nights
on the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
and do best
when nature’s breath goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

or were it better
that we also took a rest?

           * *

Here's to the kids
who skip school
but
not for alcohol
not for drugs
not for shopping
not because they're lazy
not as a joke
but those kids
that are afraid of it
that can't speak in class
that feel like they're dying walking through the halls
that feel physically sick getting called on
that get tension pains from the pressure put on them
that know how it is to live in a generation
that still doesn't accept mental illness
as much as it accepts physical illness
and that still forces kids
into situations that will leave them traumatized
at the end of the day
and will keep them up at night
for the next four years