First Generation Student

I see the students laughing over beer,
Enjoying this perfect time of year;
Nearly finals, but not quite time to cram;
A Thursday night without Friday classes.
I wonder if they see me or the others -
Those of us who work all day,
Classes in the morning,
Then our portion of thirty-eight hours a week,
Contributing to the family,
Then race home at night to study,
Trying to force facts into exhausted minds,
Backs aching from lifting and bending,
Disheveled and worn out,
Racing to the library at six a.m.

I don't think they do -
These bright young minds,
Full of energy and laughter,
Guaranteed their place by Daddy's money,
No threat of funding cuts or loss of scholarships
Should you drop below a 3.0 -

I would say the same selective blindness
Should keep me free from my envy,
But sometimes I just have to see them,
Laughing over beer.