endnotes
it's been months and months
with no writing anywhere
but in essays, but i like it that way.
today i realized something i thought i'd share
with the great outdoors, but it's cold outside
so this will have to do.
today i had my shakespeare final exam
and i wrote three essays and on and on
until was finally finished and handed them in
and got my final paper back.
and my friend Alison got hers back too,
and i called her to wish her a safe journey home
and that i would miss her and i'd see her next semester,
and we talked about the essays and we got the same grade.
years and years ago, and for years before that
i would have made a rotten friend, envious when someone
performed better than me on a test, satisfied when i surpassed everyone,
insulted when i received the same grades as everyone else
because gosh darn it look at me, can't you see i'm dying for attention
elementary/middle/high school teacher?
aren't i special? isn't there something about me
that makes me deserve an A, an A++, a star sticker for effort
during such trying times? i know i live in the suburbs,
but it's harder than it looks. no, my parents aren't abusive
or addicted. yes, we always have enough food to eat.
please, but you have to understand.
something in me is strange and deserving.
why can't you see that i'm better than everyone else?
those days have passed. we receive the same grades
and i don't even think of mine, i think that Alison worked really hard
and deserved the grade, and mine doesn't even come into the picture
until she asks about it (and i hadn't even checked yet, because really,
in the course of a lifetime, what does it matter?)
and the only thing that made me look twice
was the memory of an awful, ugly-souled child
who needed someone to tell her,
no, sweetheart. no, darling. no, sugar pie.
yes, you are amazing, you are wonderful,
you can read and write and inquire and are fascinated
and so are all the other children, but it doesn't make you any less special,
having other special people around you, too.
with no writing anywhere
but in essays, but i like it that way.
today i realized something i thought i'd share
with the great outdoors, but it's cold outside
so this will have to do.
today i had my shakespeare final exam
and i wrote three essays and on and on
until was finally finished and handed them in
and got my final paper back.
and my friend Alison got hers back too,
and i called her to wish her a safe journey home
and that i would miss her and i'd see her next semester,
and we talked about the essays and we got the same grade.
years and years ago, and for years before that
i would have made a rotten friend, envious when someone
performed better than me on a test, satisfied when i surpassed everyone,
insulted when i received the same grades as everyone else
because gosh darn it look at me, can't you see i'm dying for attention
elementary/middle/high school teacher?
aren't i special? isn't there something about me
that makes me deserve an A, an A++, a star sticker for effort
during such trying times? i know i live in the suburbs,
but it's harder than it looks. no, my parents aren't abusive
or addicted. yes, we always have enough food to eat.
please, but you have to understand.
something in me is strange and deserving.
why can't you see that i'm better than everyone else?
those days have passed. we receive the same grades
and i don't even think of mine, i think that Alison worked really hard
and deserved the grade, and mine doesn't even come into the picture
until she asks about it (and i hadn't even checked yet, because really,
in the course of a lifetime, what does it matter?)
and the only thing that made me look twice
was the memory of an awful, ugly-souled child
who needed someone to tell her,
no, sweetheart. no, darling. no, sugar pie.
yes, you are amazing, you are wonderful,
you can read and write and inquire and are fascinated
and so are all the other children, but it doesn't make you any less special,
having other special people around you, too.