I taught seventh and eighth graders,
tried hard to be tough like the professors had said,
not to let them get anything by. But wuss I was,
struggling to hold on, to keep some kind of control.
Forty-three years have come and gone, and still
I smile, remembering the young man who looked at me
at school year’s end, “I’d hate to have you next year!”
I’m teachable, and I know when I hold a loose rein
on folks who come to me, wanting what they see in me,
that I do them no favor. But I am teachable, and I know
I do no favor by letting things go. So, God help me,
as time goes by I’ll be more effective tomorrow,
next week, next month. I can become
what God set out to make.