A poem.

A New Zealand School Classroom for Awa Wahine

A poem.

I’m writing a poem to express my thoughts, just as my teacher taught me.

Just like she taught me i before e except after c,

and to dot my i’s and cross my t’s;

ironic isn’t it.

She never taught me the importance of cups of tea, giving mihi, or even allowed me the freedom for-

a-k-o

Instead, I had to stand before my peers, with ignorant glares, and explain the very importance of my cultural existence.

With love,

The kid from the ‘culturally responsive’ mainstream education system