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Abstract

pure wonder, as he watched in awe, At nature’s beauty, with no hint of a flaw.</p><p id="4605">He saw their wings flap and rise, In a dance, so graceful and wise, No curriculum or textbooks to guide, Just nature’s lesson, right by his side.</p><p id="a043">He knew not of the latest theories, Or the buzzwords of education’s fame, But his innocence and curiosity, Put all of that to shame.</p><p id="0994">For in his heart and in his soul, He understood the beauty of life, And at that moment, I knew, He was the truest teacher in sight.</p><p id="f01e">…</p><p id="cb1e">I’m deeply moved by the poem “It’s Never Too Late” by <a href="https://medium.com/@leahlynchwriting?source=post_page-----a5af3ddcfc1--------------------------------">Leah Lynch</a> <a href="undefined">Leah Lynch</a></p><p id="3ba7">and recommend it to you</p><div id="a512" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/its-never-too-late-a5af3ddcfc1"> <div> <div> <h2>It’s Never Too Late</h2> <div><h3>To make a difference</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com

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/v2/resize:fit:320/1*OPvAJXqcS19NcZ2q9-TWjA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="9d8b">You may like my other poems:</p><div id="b24b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/she-is-a-poem-of-eliot-8d109bfe6e4e"> <div> <div> <h2>She is a Poem of Eliot</h2> <div><h3>Story-Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*O8_wDTSvwx6QqIJs)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="1c92" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/embraced-in-loves-hold-8dcf90784ac1"> <div> <div> <h2>Embraced in love’s Hold</h2> <div><h3>A Love Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*Fzh9Y6WyGlZlPLXs)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

The Chaos of Academia

A poem on my teaching experience

Amidst the chaos of academia, Where titles and degrees reign, I met countless teachers, With snobbish gestures feign.

They spoke with an air of superiority, As if they knew all there was to know, Their egos bloated with pride, And their words, like venom, would flow.

The faces, the suits, the coifs, and the makeup, Each claiming expertise with every shakeup, I smiled and taught, day in and day out, Amidst the clatter, the hustle, and the shout.

Yet one day, I found myself far from the crowd, In my village, where simplicity was allowed, A young shepherd stood in the fields, so carefree, Watching geese fly in formation, with glee.

No shoes adorned his feet, no suits or ties, No makeup or coifs, no need to disguise, Just pure wonder, as he watched in awe, At nature’s beauty, with no hint of a flaw.

He saw their wings flap and rise, In a dance, so graceful and wise, No curriculum or textbooks to guide, Just nature’s lesson, right by his side.

He knew not of the latest theories, Or the buzzwords of education’s fame, But his innocence and curiosity, Put all of that to shame.

For in his heart and in his soul, He understood the beauty of life, And at that moment, I knew, He was the truest teacher in sight.

…

I’m deeply moved by the poem “It’s Never Too Late” by Leah Lynch Leah Lynch