The last time I read this poem was at the US Department of Education’s National Summit on Teacher Diversity on May 6th, 2016. I was given five minutes to say my piece. I didn’t have a title for it until this weekend, when I read it for the second time at the Rhode Island Coalition for Educators of Color (RICEC) conference. Enjoy.

On a random Monday morning,
One of my students asked me why I do this
I didn’t know what he meant, so I said “What is this?”
He said, “Teaching?”
Curious, I asked him to expound
And he waved his hand at the
Mile-high notebook stack in front of me,
He snickers like, “You really want to be doing that for the rest of your life?”
Looking at me like “He musta made a mistake,
like I really want to deal with what he makes
and structured pee breaks?”
Quiet as its kept,
before I stood in front of over 1000+ plus students in a 13 year career
I stand on the shoulders of thousands more educators of color
Forebears to the heirs of ancestral knowledge, struggle,
and trails of the unforgivable
These seats my students occupy came courtesy of
wresting them without apology
Legions of Robin Hoods as politicians were robbing hoods
Educators like me were investments in children like he
Bringing parity in an otherwise unfair system
So when I drop that first comparison on my student,
please believe my rationale is all in proportion
By the time this line drops,
I’ve got my students calculating its rate of change
By the time this next line drops,
I’ve already connected their segmented learning to centuries ago
By the time this next line drops,
I’ve worked with 5 periods of classes, 140 students,
with enough collective grit to dispel your wayward myths
My “I heard gunshots for the first time in my life last night” kids
My “I don’t have the keys to my house cuz my parents work late nights” kids
My “I know I don’t smell great because my shower’s broke, but
please, please, please let me into class” kids
My “I had to drive from my grandma’s house because my family’s going through things” kids
My “I ain’t even gonna lie, I needed that bacon, egg, and cheese” kids
My “Don’t judge me but add me on Snapchat” kids
My “I’m not ready to tell you what’s going on with me yet” kids
My “This class is the only class that sees me for me” kids
My “I had surgery on my heart yesterday, but I still came because I need to graduate and get up out of here” kids
My “You’re pushing me because you believe in me and I’ve never heard a teacher actually say that about us” kids
My kids who might become another mural,
a set of candles,
a hashtag,
a suicide note before I wrote this dope lesson plan
And not regretting it
Because I’m just listening for a higher being’s wisdom, God, Allah, inshallah,
Looking up at the stars,
Looking into my heart,
Looking at my legacy in them,
Hoping these adolescents can take it real far
And insofar as I can mark them in attendance,
ima give them my presence, my all
While I can still instill these feelings,
I’ve observed keenly from the precipice while trying to do God’s will
To think for a minute,
13 years prior,
My teacher trainer told me that I was too idealistic for this
As if the only people who make it through the rigorous process are realists
13 years later, I’m the only teacher teaching the very kids I went through this with
So as far as I’m concerned,
I’m the realest,
in fact, I’m a realistic idealist
I hope my kids feel this, child advocate, education activist, educator of kids of color
And there’ll be many more after,
I insist
And I’m not saying white teachers can’t impart jewels too
Or that teachers of color can’t rob jewels from the youth
I’m saying that, for the few and the chosen for what we do
We are the embodiment of perseverance and self-determination,
reparations come true
We look past their atitud and unlock the gates to the next altitude
Whereas some folks want to make America great again,
We built it on our backs,
on our hands, on our minds, in divine plans
Pursuant to these children as people who won’t ever never leave us,
please believe us
The reason teachers of color are more likely to see children of color as talented, as gifted
Is because, even when we’re not paid in the murkiest led-contaminated waters,
We wrap these words, letting these governors know we deliver the gifts, 30 boxes per show
Hoping every receiver opens it
And I looked back at the kid who started this and told him, “love.”
How many opportunities do we get to cultivate the classrooms where the problem solvers of tomorrow grow?
Today, they’ll cross the street, then the hallways, then the classrooms,
Followed by the graduation stage, hopefully over and over, shoulder to shoulder
Looking back at the adults who called them thugs and say, “Told ya.”
But the student just nodded, got it, and went back to his work
Which is exactly what seeds and students do, isn’t it?