Teacher Poem by Dann Thomas

I stand alone in front of young minds
Some eager, some distant, to what I have to offer.
Little minds that have to be moulded
Like clay in the hands of the potter.

What do I say to them? What to make them listen?
Is it strong words and the rod un-spared?
Or words of understanding and of love
Or the knowledge from which I’ve prepared.

Young minds curious, inquisitive, questioning
Who made the earth? Can’t we do without geography?
Math is a bore! And science we need no more.
What’s with history or for that matter even biology?

Big minds of little stars with learned light to fuel.
What ideas can I employ, these unlearned to lure
To thoughts of greatness and knowledge retain
What understanding and magic conjure?

The pen of knowledge writes not for all
And for the most, it isn’t inked for long.
Help me Lord, not to force in understanding
But direct these little minds to find the right way on.