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17 The Smith (For Bill F. Ndi) I love the new faces At the start of each semester. I enjoy the different attitudes too, Knowing how hard I must work To break them to this new setting. My voice like hammer on ananvil As to work I set, chiseling here and there: Encouraging now, threatening then, Penalizing after all. Hurt, disappointment And sometimes anger at my effort. Then realization dawns, humility sets in, The will to learn soars: now they Know they don’t know – reason to be In my class – and acknowledgement Is not a sign of weakness. The sound of my hammer all round The clock, falling in shape, and Then they must depart; I must let go. Like ladies and gentlemen, some Thank me for all I have done, Others walk away assuming they paid for My dedication. I will miss them for a while. Even as I struggle with the names; It’s a new class; the cycle with the smith. ...

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