He sits at his desk, quietly, hoping desperately not to be called on,
He is the one who fidgets in his seat, who tries to suppress a yawn.
He maybe bored or possibly tired, he puts his head down, he may have a rational reason
To not be prepared, to not have a pencil, to be dressed incorrectly for the season.
But the teacher is not aware, there are twenty plus students to teach,
The teacher is concerned with the curriculum and a lesson to preach.
Teachers learn the names of the best and the worse,
It is the middle group they need to rehearse.
But the forgotten student, their names are rarely, ever known,
They are rarely spoken of, and when brought up there is a groan.
Are they the next Steve Jobs, or Thomas Alva Edison?
Maybe , who knows they can be the next leader in medicine
Because they are forgotten, given no push to excel,
Maybe a nice word or two will get their egos to swell.