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The Professor

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Just another day, preparing me for a future.
Alone, I strolled toward my class,
The plain halls something like a hospital.
As the schedule dictated I heard a distant rumble,
They are late again.

As I walk into The Professor’s domain I sear myself in front.
A handful of my colleagues are scattered through the hall,
No one smiles, no one talks, we are after all in college.
The Professor stands at the chalkboard,
His white hair neatly combed to mask the bald spot underneath.
Despite his efforts it still shows.

This man is knowledge,
If only my comrades would show up we might get to know him better!
Maybe today they will strive to be successful.
Maybe not.

The class is full and the Professor turns, a look of despair behind his glasses.
The table reserved for our homemade goodies is bare.
“It’s empty.” He said in a deadly calm.
“Or, am I mistaken? Where are our snacks?”
Silence, dread sank in my stomach, for then I knew.

The Professor stayed quiet and slowly strode out, not to return.
There were a few moments of quiet disbelief before chaos hit.
The indignant cries of students asking “why?”.

I didn’t join in, I sat for a while pondering The Professor’s quirky style.
I did not see his actions as wrong,
Rather a service to us.
As I watched the room erupting around me here is what I saw:
The nerds and jocks,
The weirdos and Goths
All joined together by The Professor.

With that thought, I joined in the throng,
With a smile on my face.
Thank you Professor.





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