26/365, 7/30 Teacher Pen

My red teacher pen that writes green
comes with built-in spell check
and makes sound effects for every missed punctuation mark.
The smooth gel ink shines, a hypnotic glimmer
so subtle yet so effective.  They can not resist its charm.
You will put apostrophes in your contractions.
You will use the correct form of "there."
You will place a comma before "and" in every compound sentence.
And they do it.
My pen turns stuttering half-sentences
into five-paragraph essays
Sinks surface-level observations to the deep
where analysis runs rampant
and critical thought blooms.
It hones in on run-on sentences,
scribes a green lasso around their legs
and teaches them how we do things in this rodeo.
This is a lesson that needs only to be taught once.
And they've heard the rumors about my pen,
what happened to that one kid
who wrote his lab report like it was a text message.
They see it on my desk and stand clear.
I see the looks they chance in my pen's direction.
They respect the glare it gives back.