An Honest Response

You're such a bad teacher. I need a break.
You have definitely missed the profession.
When I walk out the door of your classroom,
I know even less than I knew before
your class.

Who pays for additional lessons?
Who pays for wasted time?
My mother does
and so do I.
While you are handling your private issues
caused by life itself,
my mother and I are dealing with issues
of poor reflexion
of your work.
Stop for a moment
and try to think:
do you really want to do this?

Do you want to narrow our horizons
while we haven't even seen them?
Do you want to know what they mean?
For us it means future.
For our parents joy.
For you, it means food on the table
and a new toy
for your baby boy.

If the stars collide at this very second
you wouldn't be the one to teach us about that.
Why?
Try and answer it yourself.
You know yourself the best,
but you don't know me
and you don't know him
and you will never know another person
as little as you know yourself,
because you are not a teacher.

You don't have that heart.
Heart is a muscle, as strong as our emotions are.
Yours is, apparently, to weak for this school.
Go read about methodics and psychology.
Go read about something I haven't heard for
and make me want to find out more.
Let me see you improvise
if you are as wise
as you want us to believe.

Show me that I'm honest for a reason.
Maybe I'll write an individual report this evening.

If it's too much to ask,
you know where the door is.
Walk through them after your next class
and realise if you learned something new.

Oh, well.
What can be new for you?