Mr. Patient-With-The-Slow-Kid

Lyrics

[Intro]

October twenty-fourth, two thousand twenty-three,
three forty-five in Classroom 4B,
the HVAC hums like an old promise kept.

[Verse 1]
Mr. Arthur Davies, born nineteen seventy-five,
sits beside Leo Rodriguez, nine years into the world,
at a chipped wooden desk, number twelve in the row.
The worn Math Adventures Grade 4 textbook open to page eighty-seven,
long division staring back like a locked door.

Leo chews the eraser of his yellow No. 2 pencil,
indentations from frustration, faint as whispers.
Arthur taps his pen against his chin,
not rushing, not sighing, just there.

[Chorus]
Third explanation today,
chalk dust settling on the green board,
erased remnants of the first two attempts.
The look Arthur gives says: I've got all afternoon,
no clock ticking louder than your understanding.

[Verse 2]
He draws the house again, the divisor outside,
dividend huddled inside, waiting to be unpacked.
Leo's small hand grips the pencil,
scratches a seven, erases, tries a six.

Sun slants through the window on Washington Street Elementary,
motes dancing in the beam like patient thoughts.
Arthur nods, warm but unsparing,
"Close, Leo. Let's see where it breaks."

[Bridge]

No medals for this marathon,
just the slow victory of one mind meeting another.
Morally, it's the arithmetic of decency:
subtract hurry, multiply presence.
You don't leave the equation unsolved.

[Verse 3]
Faint chalk ghosts of earlier lessons—fractions, times tables—
linger on the board's edge,
like memories of quicker students long gone home.
But here, in the emptying school,
Arthur stays, dry humor in his eye:
"Division's just sharing unfairly, Leo. We'll get it fair."

[Chorus]
Third explanation today,
chalk dust settling on the green board,
erased remnants of the first two attempts.
The look Arthur gives says: I've got all afternoon,
no clock ticking louder than your understanding.

[Outro]

October twenty-fourth ends with a quotient found,
Leo packs his bag, a small smile breaking.
Arthur erases the board one last time,
ready for tomorrow's unhurried math.