A Letter To My Professor

A student puts down his plainest thoughts in writing about his uncanny teacher, whose weird attitude keeps him at bay.

I have many things to say to you, professor!
So I chose to write them down. 
The fear in me says not to face you, 
For your arrogance leaps up like a forest flame.
And your pride rubs off subtly all around you, like the devil’s stealth.
All reason is thrown into the wind,
As your fiery outbursts deafen my ears.
I would rather say a few things sire;
Forgive me for calling your knowledge bluff!
For when in your dignity, you stoop so low to argue senselessly
With one of low esteem such as I am,
Would you not be considered foolish and insane?

The other day I saw a lunatic, 
With beard unkempt and oh what a face! 
As dark as the shadow cast by an eclipse.
Then I thought of you!
How shabbily you dress in ‘’being careless’’ about vain earthly issues,
The crevices between your teeth darkened with the eastern kola.
Perhaps the bitterness of the kola affected your tastes;
Since you have a remarkable delight in people’s bitterness,
And ecstasy fills your bowels at the news of our failures.
We know the odyssey of meeting you in the hallway – scorn, ridicule, and tears.

When asked by you yesterday,
To write a vivid description of our feelings towards you,
What were your expectations?
Sonnets or ditties eulogizing you?
Or lines that tell of your achievements?
I see this as the perfect timing to compose a lament for you,
And tell of your gory life,
the ailing general that you are.
And hope you forgive me for baring my mind.

 A man must have at least a fear,
Which he confronts daily.
Which puts him on his toes, at his wit’s end with his pride.
I hate that you fear nothing, 
Not even shame or disgrace.
I fear that the society means no more to you,
Than a bunch of foolish surviving adults,
Bidding their time, waiting for doomsday.
I hate that you lack emotions, 
Or rather your emotions are on the wrong end of an activated complex,
Far away from the realities of sanity.

I feel for your wife and daughter, 
For you say their brains are nothing more 
Than neatly packaged frog brains forced into humans
When you sent that despairing student away, 
Calling his work ‘’a moron’s timeless jargon’’,
And led him straight to his self-constructed gallows
I wondered why wickedness thrives,
And why wicked men refuse to die.
But man’s days are short and full of trouble, says the scriptures;
Yours indeed are troubles in excess,
I secretly hoped your end would come soonest.

I wish our minds were free!
Free to wander in and engage your most brilliant thoughts,
Free to roll seamlessly in your sea of knowledge,
And bask in the euphoria of having caught a glimpse of you.
Yet a stark wall you are - several meters high,
Posing a strong resistance, 
To our most potent efforts, yearnings, and aspirations.
Bringing low our expectations, 
And dashing what little hopes we had left in us for this country.
For I see my country in you,
Its malady ravaging you inside and the putrefaction evident.

I hope my letter never gets to you, for then you may have some sense;
And change your ways and live long.
Or you might get worse off, and I will never come to school again,
For fear of your heavy hand upon my soul.
I have entrusted my friend to not make this letter public 
Until you are gone!
And your shadow no longer threatens. 
Or when I’m dead and free from the torment of your silhouette.
But while alone and in the comfort of my room,
I say these things plainly from the depths of my heart,
And truly wish you were a better professor and a better man. 
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