TEACHERS; THE UNSUNG HEROES

Picture by google images

             By Linda Mupemo

You know Mandela, I am sure you do.

You know Nkandu Luo and many professors too.

But do you know who knew what they know now before they knew it?

Do you ever think of their very early roots or do you only look at the fruits you “see” today? Is that it? 

What about those roots, the cement in their education foundation?

Those roots which taught them the vowels they use in every wise word they utter that makes you accord them a standing ovation.

Those roots are the tempests, strong yet weak,

The voice suppressed and unexpressed like having a lamb for a pet…meek! 

Like a one-day hit song, they fade so weakly,

Their importance melts like ice before a white-hot furnace…. So quickly!

Needed today, ignored tomorrow,

Just because you think you now got all you WANTED from them so you treat them like you NEED them no more.

They are the unsung tune behind the song of every educated hero,

The forgotten “something” brought on a scale to “nothing”… zero.

They feel as if they are silent, but I hear their cry so loud,

They are silent because the crowd is too loud to hear them propound how proud they would sound if a mere slice of gratification for them was allowed.

Their pay is small, no, smaller than small,

But they retire their desire for wealth and sacrifice to inculcate knowledge in us all.

From baby class, where they even offer the pupils’ a hand in diaper changes

And condone the hour-long cries for “mama”,

To high school, where they acclimatize to assorted behaviour ranges,

The opening of teenage pages; and the penetrative pressure like rays of gamma.

Wait… that reminds me of my school teacher;

I remember the days she would call me; I would incline my head ear wards to grasp her life-building words,

Her voice always breathed failure-curtailing energy to my inner drive making my brain sharper than Hitler’s swords.

 “Education is not the key to success IF the lock to access is shadowed by your own slackness,” she told me one day.

So I pondered, I wondered,

I wondered what she meant for my intellect was nearly overpowered.

But wisdom was my “optician” so I looked and “saw”,

 I was only thirteen after all.

And here I am, standing tall and mighty like the Eiffel tower, chewing over those words every possible hour.

The Doctors you respect so much today were once pupils under a teacher’s power,

The Lawyers, Accountants, Journalists, Engineers… the list is endless.

So I wonder when the song about teachers will be forever sung with pride and awe, as the song of a hero,

When their efforts will be considered refreshing as the fall, or the flow of salt-less spring-fresh water beside the seashore.

When their honor will levitate, like every Jet,

 And motivate every state to co-ordinate how to differentiate ordinary from eminent.

I implore you now;

Like water lilies afloat a sea, go with the waves,

Like you are making history, make a new mark as this trail paves.

Sing to the new tune, in and out as the smoke billows,

The song of teachers…. Our unsung heroes!!!