ACT.

Location

Alright, you may open your textbooks and begin.

Read. Read. Read.

Bubble. Bubble.

A, D, B, C, C...

See. Look. Look around. Look at him, look at her.

Look at the guy behind you, the one who always has his headphones in. The one who always seems to be drowning something out. 

Look at the kid two seats in front of you, whom you used to sit next to in Algebra II, but you never talked to because you didn't go to the same parties.

Look at the girl across from you. The one who everyone said sent those pictures, but no one ever got the real story. 

Why are we all here? 

In this classroom so congesting. All the time we're investing. The information we're digesting. 

It's because our futures are resting on standardized testing. 

3 letters. 215 bubbles. And, ultimately, a 2-digit number to determine your success.

And how did we measure merit before that?

By a class rank? By the number of chevrons on our lettermen's jackets? By the number of likes on our selfies?

Or maybe we're the kids who pride ourselves in how much money our dads make. Or in how many shots we took last weekend, or in the youth group we attend. 

After high school, it's like Who's Line, where the points don't matter--

So ignore all the bullshit of the hallway chatter!

Take the patterns and break them, shatter.

Let's reinvent the rungs of the success ladder. 

This place does not define you.

This answer sheet does not define you. 

Time's up.

Comments

jtwiseman95


Awesome poem! Thanks for sharing!

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