Ned said to no one in
particular.
He was ending his teaching
career,
Wanting to commemorate the
occasion.
I turned to view the other 10
students,
All intent on appearing not to
have heard the question,
Going through the motions of
closing books preparing to leave ,
While I, in the role of off-screen
observer,
Recorded the dissonance of the
dance.
The quiet desperation in the
instructors suggestion
Pleaded for a ringing
endorsement
That would validate two decades
worth of effort.
(Showing up, sometimes advancing
An idea that got replayed by an
underachiever
In the form of an effective
response.)
But none was forthcoming.
How easy it should have been to utter
“Sure”, “lets do it”, “OK”, all
would have sufficed.
It would have cost me nothing,
Yet I remained silent, avoided
eye contact.
Ned’s embarrassment, and mine,
Stretched with each second, as
we all feigned ignorance
Beseeching the teacher to
repudiate his request.
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