Confession

Oh, the sound of pursuit by our youth!

The groans. The moans. The ear-splitting glares.

You pull in one direction, they in the other.

There are so many of them and only one of you.

You must be powerful to resist and overcome the conglomerate force.

The blood is shed on their behalf,

Although they would all naively disagree.

Expectations abound. Some low, some even lower.

The relativity scale is relatively low.

Even the high is relatively so.

To take them from point A to point B is one thing.

But when it’s Z where you’re trying to take them,

And trying to look at and appreciate the scenery along the way,

When the terrain is overgrown and seemingly indomitable,

Then it is as if we travel with a grain of sand in the shoe.

Yet we must move on foot toward the end.

Stumbling and aching along the way.

Just when we feel we can’t go on,

More is required than was before.

And only I have my eyes on the horizon.

Many give out, long before their prime

Taking shorter more traveled routes to nowhere.

Those that remain write home

Hoping home will intervene

And save them from what they are told they should do.

Home reads the letters with mixed emotion.

Why does the journey have to be so demanding?

Can I travel it for them? Can they take a plane?

Why is their leader so ruthless and unrelenting?

If only I could send milk and cookies!

As if I enjoy being looked upon as a necessary evil,

Home tries to keep it’s distance. . .

Until they realize that even though we all forge onward,

We have no guarantee of reaching our destination.

I am a mad leader on an unnecessarily perilous odyssey.

Yes, I must admit.

Onward I push in the face of criticism and antagonism.

I don’t need praise to sustain me.

For I can see far beyond others

And I know the rewards are there.

Yes, I admit

I am sometimes filled with self-doubt

But never am I deterred from the pursuit of leading the proselytes onward.

Yes, I confess, I am a math teacher:

I torture kids for a living.