The Teacher

By Greeva Shah

Not the one who chases marks,

but the one who polishes thought—

clear as diamond,

cut with care.

They do not drag us through the door,

but open it wide,

waiting for our step,

our will to walk.

They do not teach only numbers and names,

but hold our storms,

tend our roots,

grow us from sapling to tree.

Emotion is their compass—

not always stern,

but tuned to the child,

to the moment,

to what will bloom.

Like sunlight, water, and air,

they give what’s needed—

not too much,

never too little—

just enough

for us to rise.

By Greeva Shah