Mrs. Winkler Writes a Poem for Power

I am too small. I am too large.

I will never be small enough

Never large enough

Or smart enough

Never competent and capable enough to do all the tasks you don’t want to do

in a room you will never enter.

Yes, you trust me to teach developmental classes,

develop any curriculum,

complete all other duties as assigned

by just about anyone.

Credentialed. Yes, just not at acceptable places.

Oral Roberts University?

You’re kidding.

Can there any good thing come out of there?

Not good enough. Not good enough.

A trouble maker

The first one to dissent.

The first one to ask a question.

So many questions.

Me too?

But who cares what abuse you’ve endured

When you’re nothing special to look at.

C’mon.

Get over it.

That happened so long ago.

Your worth? Ha. Look at you.

But I know it.

I wrote it out moments ago–1,444 words so far

And I haven’t even scratched the surface.

So go on and treat me like a simpleton

who doesn’t know the first thing about teaching

then ask me to teach the unteachable.

Ask me to fill out another

damn

form.

Treat me as if I’m incompetent.

Then, ask me to develop another new course.

Then, wipe out all that I’ve done.

Go ahead and tell me to do something,

criticize me for doing it.

It doesn’t matter.

I know my worth.

And so do they.

And that–

That is the only thing that does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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