My teacher calls me sweetie cakes.
My classmates think it’s funny
to hear her call me angel face
or pookie bear or honey.
On days when I forget my lunch,
my teacher has it handy.
It’s full of fruits and vegetables,
but never any candy.
She hands me little heart-shaped notes
and blows me kisses too.
She does this to me all the time.
I don’t know what to do.
My class is so embarrassing
I need to find another;
just any class at all in which
the teacher’s not my mother.
