You tell me to find comfort in routine
I can establish that for myself
But somehow I’m supposed to be content with someone selling me pipe dreams
Most people end up smoking something out of a pipe outside of your tiny world called a classroom
I think you’re responsible for leading them to that self-destructive pipe
The world is my classroom
You confine me to your miserable corner of the universe where you claim to be helping the world by rules
And the rules are only there to reinforce obedience
And the people who reinforce those rules are not the ones who like them, but they use them to claim respect
They went to college and earned a degree only to grow old and be shat on by society
People want freedom
A lot of people refuse to chase freedom
Freedom is not what we want, but what we make
Routine keeps us sane, but it is not what we think it is
Routine by definition is structure, but structure only provides us with legs to stand on
I would rather habe my own legs and know what they’re made of rather than deal with the shit you give me
You value other people based off of what you can get and see the opinions of others as gold
Some people are to be treated like gold, and others are simply there to sit under you
Only a fool sits in a classroom and stays under someone who probably isn’t happy with their life
Provide all the knowledge you want but don’t make it from a book
Teach about life, and provide real tools that help someone succeed.
You’ve failed as a teacher if your students don’t go out into the world with a new perspective
Fuck your books.
Fuck your tests.
Life tests me more than any book ever will.
And I want to pass the test of life.
Too bad I can’t study for that.
Fuck your school.
Obeeda Poetry 