I'm sitting in class today
an I.R. lecture,
the professor up there
figure of respect, or perhaps should be perceived as such
being a professor and all,
he's standing there, these two frat boys behind me
yapping about about some senseless nothing
noticing nothing outside there self contained bubbles
and on proceeds the professor with his lecture.
they run on in it, i ask them to be quiet,
they quiet up, but in that idiot manner
where giggles can be heard under their voices.
And almost instantly, right beside me,
a blonde, her phone in hand, begins atyping,
I sit there, with my push pen pressing,
replicating noises for her notice.
She doesn't notice, but continues pushing buttons,
clicking away at my right flank
I feel like chucking the f$cking phone down the aisle
and calling her out, like witches way back.
I hoped to take her phone and close it for her,
I felt like pulling out my own, and teaching her how to type,
I felt like reading her messages, so close she could hear me breathing
enough to feel harassed, and quickly leave the class,
and me content, notebook on my khakied lap,
writing away, a happy man in learning.
You see, the way i see it, is this ignorant Amerika spoils its children, what makes them thinK they are allowed to come to class and disrupt in such a fashion? Who do these people think they are? the two juggernauts could talk outside if need be, and she could meet her typing pal to settle that which they so disruptively beat around the bush for. Half the class could leave, because half the class cares not to learn, their parents pay for it all, and the loans pile up in dark bureaus. These people are privileged to have an opportunity to learn, but instead they opt to steal my own. Next time I will carry a can of tic tacs to shake when the time is right, and when the prof asks me "what's the ruckus?" I shall respond, "I'm just adding to the noise."
The quality of learning in this kuntree needs to rise. That is to say, the teachers do a great job, but some of the students... Some of these people don't even kno how to write. They sure know how to drink though. Impressive... the creative potential they have when it comes to inventing drinking games, or stylish ways of getting high, in order to finally be able to socialize, and get a 'piece of ass' to pass the night. They drink and smoke to forget their empty lives, the fact that many kultures means no kultures in the eyes of all those states within the map that have things to call their own.
I do not bark and bite on the decent peoples of this land. I am with them, a part of them, and they of mine. I keep in mind that gentle hearts jog upon this gracious earth, and smile, and speak, and laugh, and cry. They which i speak exist only in my mind and in the moments i witness these actions that i judge- those moments in which screams collect in the crevice of my throat then, finding no exit out my mouth pose their weights in my shoulders, and, in posture, of Atlas I remind the world i suffer.
