The Waiting Game

The Waiting Game:

If I was a teacher

I would plot out my students like they were constellations

Each one a different shape with a different story

I would look up at them in wonder

And spend the time to study each and everyone

And I don’t want any of them thinking that they are comet

And that their comment will only come once every thousand years

Because everyone deserves a chance to talk

When I was in kindergarten

We were placed in rows

And the teacher

She drew a hopscotch court

That not even the heaviest rain could wash it away

Everyday it was the same path of students

Everyone else was just the boring black pavement

On the door there was a sign

And it stated

Rule #1

Raise your hand when you have something to say

And wait for someone else to decide whether or not my opinion was worth listening to

To wait to be called on

To wait to be noticed

To wait in silence

To wait

And to not move too fast

Or make a sound

Because then

Then I would be called on last

And I guess the idea is to make your arm like a lighthouse

A beacon that draws in attention

But maybe people never thought the light was on upstairs

Because no ships ever sailed my way

And I have learned that Dante is right

Waiting is an eternal punishment

And yet I continue to wait

Making sure to not move too fast

Making sure I am not making a sound

But even after all these years

My arm is still in the air

I feel like I am that kid the teachers never sees

In between the two loud kids stuck in row three

Sat in the back until further notice

But I have never been noticed

While my arm burns and ache

I hold my hand up high

Not reaching for the sky

But reaching for attention

To be called upon

To be listened to   

So eager to speak my mind

To share my opinion

To let my thoughts free

Thoughts that have been enclosed in a cage of teeth

The thoughts that have been left unspoken on my tongue

And I guess people no longer bother to read my lips

Because they have said the same thing for forever

Sewed shut together

Until further notice

And you may say, “But you are speaking out right now!”

“You are noticed and listen to!”

But that is the flaw in the thinking

This poem

It isn’t about me

I always had bad eyesight so I was up in row 1

No, this is not about me

It’s about that kid

Back in row three