I can not teach these children anymore.
They are like animals.
Beasts.
'Well...
Whatever you do,
DO NOT threaten them.
Let's go to the teacher's lounge.
I've got mints and a bottle of scotch.'
I don't drink.
Use 'crack' or smoke weed.
'And you 'think' you will survive,
Teaching these kids?
Here.
Take this.'
What is it.
Your business card?
'No.
The telephone number,
Of my psychiatrist.
Make a decision to choose,
Which one is more effective...
Than having negative publicity.
And sitting in a prison defending your sanity.
Or letting a group of dysfunctional kids,
Supported by their disrespecting parents.'
Do I chew the mints,
Before or after I drink the scotch.
'Do both.
But...
Stay away from vodka and orange juice.
I tried that when I first started,
And passed out.
That's the only time the kids were quiet.
It frightened me.'
Frightened you?
Why?
'When I awakened in the hospital,
They all showed up smiling.
As if they could not wait,
To get me back into the classroom.
I knew 'then'...
It was time to change my brand of liquor.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem