Monday through Friday, the hallways hiss,
A gauntlet dressed as “school,” but nothing like bliss.
Kids and teachers trade their venomous wit,
Turning neurodivergent kids into the skit
The scapegoat, the spectacle, the one they omit.
And maybe it’s me, but weren’t these walls
Supposed to lift you up, not script your fall?
Not today. Not anymore.
The myth of safety rots at the core.
They chant “choice” like a holy rite,
But shadows swallow every light.
Budgets vanish in sleight‑of‑hand,
And students bleed while leaders stand.
I was homeschooled, and look at me now:
Law grad, writer, truth‑hound with a vow.
A retired journalist who learned to see
The cracks in every authority.
Homeschool wasn’t the problem, never that.
Brick‑and‑mortar fed you history flat:
Whitewashed tales in a tidy stack,
Designed to keep you quiet, keep you back,
A curated past that hides the tracks
Of every truth, they won’t unpack.
Choices were here now, they ghost away,
Fading like chalk in the rain’s decay.
Every budget plan Shapiro drafts
Cuts another future in half;
Public or charter, the numbers bend,
And somehow, students lose again.
So what do we do when the choices die,
When kids learn fear before they learn “why”?
We drag the truth into the light,
We name the rot, we name the blight.
We fight for the ones who don’t fit the mold,
For stories too honest, too fierce, too bold.
And here’s the line they can’t ignore:
A school that fears the truth
shouldn’t teach anymore.
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