A Place Not For Me, But For You

I'm grateful I've not taught in a normal school,

Where children sit and follow my rules,

Or are told what to think, what to know, what to be;

A place not for them, but for me.

I've neither the heart nor the head for ending their play,

For making them cram day after day,

For the gnawing inside that knows all they're missing.

It would build up within me; I'd be the radiator hissing.

I'd get my ass fired while lighting those flames.

I'd finally bust out, "My god, this is lame!

Life is big, varied, exciting, and fun!

It's not just something for when the rote is all done!"

I'm not bearing that message: life is a toil.

That play is dessert kept underneath foil

Until you've been sapped of what you had to give

No, to live is to play, and to play is to live!

I'm sorry I boast, because that's what I do.

Underneath, please believe, I celebrate with you.

Because every parent and teacher knows what is true.

If you've not quit already, you'll get your ass fired too.

And then we will learn, really learn through our day.

Our minds free to pursue what to know, and to say.

It's a place, such a place, so old it is new;

A place not for me, but for you.

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