The year Logic came out with his suicide hotline song,
we had to report students singing I just wanna die
in the hallways during passing period. As teachers,
it’s our job to report outcries like this to the crisis
counselor, even though we know it’s a song.
You’re finished if you don’t, says the principal.
Your life ended in ninth grade; I was okay
with the cigarettes, weed, but not the pills.
Gen Z doesn’t say shut up or piss off, they shout
kill yourself. How could I be upset with them
for saying it–their every day is clear backpacks,
no hoodies, IDs on lanyards. They joke about
who would be the school shooter in the class,
giggle during drills. A kid told me if it’s my time,
it’s my time. They get asked what they would do
if it happened in our school. Once, we did a drill
and they didn’t tell us it was a drill. They shook
and banged on doors, and a student threw up.
Aren’t you going to take the shot for us? Yes,
I’m not only Teacher; I’m Therapist, Calmer
of Angry Parents, Child Death Preventer. I stay
away from tragedy with the Three-Read strategy:
focus on the feeling, analyze the imagery, write
with inspiration. This assignment will be
my 13th reason. How would you make sense
of this generation? Syringe in your arm, I
place you between the “when in doubt
go to the library” poster and the door,
and you weave between rows of desks
in the windowless room. One of the last
times we spoke, you said sometimes it feels
like I’m the only one who believes in you.
— SARA ALLISON
Sara Allison is a poet and high school English teacher. Her recent work appears in Little Stone Journal and The Minison Project Magazine. She lives in Fort Worth, Texas.