“A real education is when we take responsibility for our own lives.”
–John Taylor Gatto
with few exceptions, the students
who started school in the district,
stayed together, year after year,
all the way through graduation–
just like their older brothers and sisters
had done before them
you came to us, Don, Southern drawl and all,
from a small river town in Kentucky,
and lacking the deep roots of home,
dear boy, was the rub
I heard from teachers that
you screwed around, even mouthed off,
in a couple of your classes–
certainly not unexpected behavior
for someone trying to fit in
what you didn’t do,
at least in my English class,
was apply yourself, at all
perhaps you thought why bother or who cares
or this stuff doesn’t matter
or I probably won’t be here for long anyway
lacking the gravitational pull of purpose,
you did nothing more than show up–
a semiliterate in school and in life in the making
looking back: why did I make it so easy
for you (shame on me)
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what you needed was a personal mentor,
not to help you catch up on your basic skills,
that was the least of your problems
no, you needed someone who clearly
understood the enervating effects of disinterest
someone who could have helped you
appreciate the importance of setting goals,
of staying on task,
of being responsible for your own actions