You're wrong

No, Mr. Matthews you’re wrong.

My intelligence cannot be summed up by a single letter you haphazardly scribble onto a paper,

It isn’t my fault that my partner is irresponsible.

No I will not stop talking.

I don’t think teachers know what school’s function is.

It is not an institution of learning,

It is not an 8 hour prison,

It is not your classroom;

It’s mine.

It is mine to learn

To grow,

To teach,

And to enjoy.

School isn’t about learning what x equals,

Or the proper use of whom,

Or exactly what a writer meant when he said the curtains were red;

Maybe red was his favorite color.

No, school is for me,

No Mr. Matthews you’re wrong.

I learn through others,

No standardized test can contain the vast knowledge I’ve learned from talking.

I’ve learned about death,

Love,

Heartbreak,

Faith,

Euphoria,

Work ethic,

Motivation,

Hope,

The list could go on.

No Mr. Matthews you’re wrong.

This 70% you marked sloppily on the top of my test isn’t a reflection of me;

It’s a reflection of you.

It’s a reflection of how you don’t believe in me,

How you think a test score can define me,

How you value definitions more than you value growth.

No Mr. Matthews you’re wrong.

You screwed me over because the other half of my team decided not to do it,

You failed me because I don’t think the government can be summed up by definitions.

You’re angry with me for being late to your class,

Because I was learning about the trials of a friend.

No Mr. Matthews you’re wrong.