How You Taught Life Instead of Literature

It would be strange to say you changed me

Weird to say I’m wise.

Odd to speak at all, since seat 27 row five,

Was occupied by me, small, quiet me.

Tangled and mixed up in a sea,

Of awkward teenagers.

You said seize the day

To break routine, to change;

And there I was trying to arrange and rearrange

My life. And I remember how I cried

Just a little, when you worried that one of us had died,

Since Friday’s news was misleading.

I’ve never wanted a spotlight

And never wanted to stand out

But you taught to embrace life, to shout,

To sing, to dance, to love, to challenge

And I felt a sense of balance,

For the very first time.

But you’re the teacher, and you’ll never know.

And I’m just a kid. Forever with a blank stare

Hiding in my heart the changes, advice, and the rare

Sense of happiness, comfort, and joy you brought

With all the life and literature you taught.

And I'm sorry I never raised my hand.