You are the quiet ones.
The ones teachers love to have in class.
The ones who just sit there without ever talking
Smiling shyly at the cool kids’ put-down jokes… and you are the ones who never squeal
When the burnt-out teacher wants to know who bulls-eyed his chalk dust coated black
With a chewed up spit wad,
You are the noiseless ones.
The ones, school principals love to have in school.
The ones who never get sent to the office, therefore, he can’t put your name and your face
Even though he daily stands right next to you in the cafeteria during breakfast and lunch,
Looking past you, to the apples of his eyes… the pretty ones… who talk loud… who act
You are the minimum requirement ones.
The ones who school counselors have the easiest time with.
The ones who are satisfied with whatever class schedule is handed them
And forgotten about, until next semester, when another quick fix for school is given to
On a blue tone paper, with class subjects, room numbers, and a book locker number 125,
With a right 31, left to 5, right to 20 Combination….that doesn`t work…you know it
Because you have had that same book locker for the past three years, and every year, you
return to the same locker, try to open it, but it never opens.
But you’re the only one that knows your book locker is jammed shut
So you tote all your books with you from class to class and everybody thinks you’re weird
Because you never complain…because you`re neither nerdy nor flirty.
You are the not to bother with ones.
The ones whose telephone numbers are never asked for,
The ones who ride the bus to and from school, sitting on the same exact bouncy seat, day
in and day out,
The ones bus drivers love, and look forward to shuttling every day.
And he smiles with you, as you load and unload his yellow transport…
Because he knows it wasn’t you who threw the broken piece pencil to the front of the bus
And hit Mary on the head
Or hid Sid’s` back-pack, way in the back and he had to pull the bus over to the side of the
road and find it, for Sid,
Who was crying.
You are the non-year book ones.
The ones who never spend their saved-up money on the school annual,
The ones who never get asked to sign someone’s face, “good luck” “friends forever”
At your high school graduation, when your name is called and you confidently walk across
the commencement Stage, to proudly receive your diploma.
The Principal shakes your hand, smiles at you for the first time in four years and
inquiringly thinks to himself
Before the next name is called
O`, so this is Celeste…what a pretty face… I never knew… I always wondered…
Who Celeste was…
Celeste…the one with the Heavenly name…
Rudy H. Garcia 5/26/07
Author: Rudy H. Garcia
Rudy H. García, from Port Isabel, Texas, has a Master’s in Education from the University of Texas at Brownsville and earned a B.A. in psychology from Pan American University in 1976. He is a participant in the Narciso Martínez Cultural Arts Center Writers’ Forum, and is a founder of the Laguna Madre Writers Forum. Rudy has also been featured on the radio program “Themes and Variations.” His poems are published with “Poets of the East Village” in New York and he has been a featured reader for the El Paseo Arts Foundation and is published in numerous other magazines.