Don't Quit

I thought of quitting again today.

At Period Three,
when you screamed so loud
the whole school could hear.

I thought of quitting again.

When you asked me
what we’re doing today
after I had explained it
for the third time,

I thought of quitting again.

When you opened your iPad
and started watching footage
of your rugby game,

I thought of quitting again.

The moment you left the room
and never came back—

God knows where you went,
what could have happened
when you climbed over the fence,
disappeared with your friends,
and decided that a little sparring
was “friendly” fighting—

I thought of quitting again.

When I asked you
to stop torturing the electric guitar,
assaulting the drums,
and blasting your music through the loudspeaker,
for we were about to start the class—

but you kept going anyway,

I thought of quitting again.

The moment you pulled your phone
out of your pocket
and started tinkering,
despite the warning—

I thought of quitting again.

I don’t know why.

I have tried kindness.
I have tried patience.
I have tried the look.

But I don’t know why.

They say,
“Just talk to him.
Remind him.
It should work.”

But sometimes, it doesn’t.

So I don’t know why.

“Send him to the duty dean.
Talk to his parents about it.”

And you do.

But somehow,
some days,
you still find yourself
back where you began.

I really don’t know why.

Why I’m still here,
baring myself,
making you laugh
as I entertain you
with this poem.

But yeah, I really don’t know why.

Why, after that heavy feeling
when I left school the day before,
telling myself,

“I’m going to be absent tomorrow,”

I wake up anyway—

because we need to revise
for your external exams.

So, I really don’t know why.

Perhaps it was your long face,
your eyes telling me
you were going through something.

Perhaps it was your posture,
or the way you carried yourself,
that told me
you were terrified of falling.

Or perhaps it was your big laugh,
your “I don’t care” attitude,
telling me that, indeed,
you cared—

but you were too afraid
to admit it.

It probably was your
“Hi, Sir,”
and the sudden smile
when you greeted me outside class.

For a moment,
I saw a different side of you.

Or was it because
you offered to take the devices
back to the resource room?

I don’t know why.

Did you know
I crossed oceans to be here?

I left behind
my mum, my dad,
my brothers and sister,
my friends,
and two little boys
so very dear to me.

And somehow,
I found myself here—

with you.

Don’t quit,
I told myself.

For the work is here,
the need is here,
You are here.

Don’t quit,
I told myself.

Somehow, tomorrow morning,
I know I will walk
through those gates again—

Berating,

berating myself,
yet celebrating,
Celebrating for not quitting.