As I shovel in my raspberry Aldi brand yogurt
in my car
in the John Hersey High School parking lot
hoping to avoid the stares of people pulling up next to me,
I can’t help but think,
What does a teacher eat for breakfast?
Do they even eat breakfast,
or do they just come out from their closets
or under their desks,
preparing for another day of student torturing?
Do they plug themselves into the walls?
Letting their wires and circuits recharge.
Or maybe they all leave their rooms
and walk to the cafeteria
for a meal of stale bread and semi bruised fruit.

But I know a teacher wouldn’t eat what I eat,
because I have a full fridge of food,
and a house.
I have a family
who I eat breakfast with every Sunday,
while a teacher just shuts down for the weekend
and subconsciously grades my papers.
I wouldn’t know what a teacher ate because I live in a house,
eating breakfast consisting of left over birthday cake,
big glasses of milk,
and waffles topped with whipped cream and chocolate sauce.
Because I used to wake up before school,
a whole hour earlier,
just to watch Pokémon, Sailor Moon, and Card Capturers.
So, don’t ask me what a teacher eats.
I’m not part robot.

Please oh please don’t let me give up my warm bed,
for a room in a school.
I can’t eat stale things
or electricity.
I need my chocolate,
sugar, and cream cheese.
So don’t try to teach me the right way to eat breakfast.
I’m far too human to live the life of a teacher.