My Boys

Front and center sits my oldest student,

A boy, attempting to be a man.

He’s sees himself as a real tough guy;

Like a football player, but he's quite a bully.

To the right my daily comic relief...

His mother would die if she knew,

His-tales of her bathtub bubbles-,

And stories of his step-dad’s stench.

Red hair and glasses don my next charge;

Bright and sweet and always on time.

His work’s always done, homework too,

But at the drop of a hat, teardrops appear.

Then in the back and almost never here,

Adorned in the newest fashions, not a hair out of place,

When he’s in attendance we always are told

Of the newest, the best, most expensive new purchase.

And in the back as well, across the room,

A handsome boy who smells so bad;

My biggest boy, and oh so bright,

With a nasty temper to beat all else.

And two more young men who come and go

To refresh their memories on how to behave,

Or take a break from other classes,

One of them destined for a scholarship,

The other - a softer heart - you’ll ever know.

These are my boys, We hang out every day.

You can see my great fortune in the way

I spend my days:  I never dread a single work-day,

For I consider my work a great privilege.