Who Raised Me?

My mother was my teacher. Every teacher I have had.

My father was brick walls and tile floors.

I was raised on perfection.

I was raised on stress.

Anxiety was my playmate.

Tests and quizzes were the games we played.

The prize was this idea of perfection.

I was brought up on pressure.

Tears of not understanding.

My lullaby was the speaker and the bell saying that my day was done.

I don't remember childhood.

I don't remember being raised.

Not by my parents anyway.

Yes, they loved me,

But it was not with them that I spent my day.