A Poem of Trying to Solve an APT
Shreya Patel

I wanted to truly understand –
so I begged earnestly for my python interactive textbook to let me see
into the recesses of his mind, the depths of his soul, 
the cracks of his heart. 
Likewise, he shared, 
guiding me through cobwebs in his brain filled with while loops and for loops, 
opening creaking doors to the dictionaries he described that were filled with many keys and values.
His spirit harbored rotten skeletons of old python operators, such as integer division, 
but he found solace in the newer python version, leaving me behind, chasing.
I struggle through APTs, sobbing on my knees when he could no longer teach me, when all I could see was red.
Determined, in my most purposeful indirection, I try again,
turning a back to his cold, mocking eyes.
The air of surrender surrounds me–
and desperately I grapple the knowledge from my professor.
Once again, I persist.
I’ve done it. 
All green.