My First Apology: I Hope You Like Unstructured Poetry

Dear Mr. Math Teacher,

I never really knew you.

All I knew is that you taught math,

my least favorite subject.

But please, let me explain myself.

If I’m being honest here,

your teaching never

ever interested me.

Not even a bit.

Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't start

my apology like this;

please don't take it personally,

I'm new to this.

You interested others, I could tell.

People sucked up, so close

to your face that it disappeared
like the inside of a vacuum.

But honestly, your block periods

took more than forever.

You spent the 45 minute periods

going over one problem.

The wasted time, the calculus,

logarithms, angles,

connection diagrams, limits,

it all excited you so.

But to me, all of that--

all the numbers

and shapes and symbols--

had no meaning behind them.

I never listened in class.

I doodled until the spaces between

each number of a problem

turned to scratches of lead.

I leaned back in my chair

until I was about to fall.

I asked to go to the restroom

until you said no more.

Here, I was good at math.

Here, I had never gotten a B.

But I wasn’t cocky, the opposite actually.

I just lost myself beyond reach.

And when I came late that morning,

crying, for the first time

in front of anybody at school,

everyone stared and you said nothing.

And when he killed himself,

I told you it was an emergency, and

that I would turn in the assignment later.

I never did. Did you notice?

A few weeks later,

I got my first C.

A few after that,

I got my first D.

I was slipping, I was desperate,

and I asked you for help.

You helped me like

I was in kindergarten.

And I don’t blame you

because I treated you

like you were an

above average math monkey.

But I still got angry.

And I never asked for help again.

I was scared, lonely,

but how would you have known?

To finish what I never started,

but what I dragged out in rolled eyes

and muffled snickers,

I am very, very sorry.

I'm also sorry that

this is such a crappy apology.

I tend to offend people

without meaning to.

I'm sorry this is just a retelling

of what I already put you through.

But I wanted you to know that

It wasn't you, it was me.

My first apology.

Do I regret my treatment of you most?

No, this is one wrinkled fold

underneath many layers of regrets.

But I have to start somewhere,

and I thought that

you would want

to know.