And School, Teachers & Wrong
Models are Supposed to be your Second Life!
Written By: Zehra Nasirali
The dreary,
stuffy class,
Seems
dooming as I pass by.
As his
voice wavers at its climax –
And,
luckily our ears’re filled with wax.
As his
authoritative voice quakes the room!
Simultaneously, so does his hands,
Over us like a tree it looms
As back and
forth, he swings his body and hands
To
overreact with complete nothingness!
You’d think with that football head of his
It would
weight him down, yes?
Thus causing
all but him bliss!
And who is this I currently diss?
Oh! Just a
teacher I remember from my past his’!
Then came
the mixtured floor or the fourth floor
Where
combinations of smelly cultural lunches
Entwined
with dull abstract art décor
Hovered
over the atmosphere
Via
exhausted sickly clouds!
But one ‘salle de classe’ in particular
Brought
about memorable giggles and laughter
To see our ‘Einstienic’ teacher mumble under his breath!
His voice husky and heavy
His hair
growing wildly like an open wreath
And his
beard growing like weeds
That it
breaks combs of barbers
When
attempting these enmesh hairs!
And when giving his question an answer
Looking above his glasses and saying words I thought he owned:
‘Yus… yus…
I suppose blu blublu blublurr!’
Was one
action of his where I could not contain myself
(Although
he’d have no problem with his big pot belly!)
He too was one of a kind;
I guess
every language is one of a kind!
Even more
further back in Junior High
The rules
enforced were totally ludicrous!
Just the
absence of a necktie
And you
would have to say goodbye!
Back home
you went
And a
suspension note sent!
(Oh sure, a
forced holiday taught you to be penitent!)
Even caps
were against the rules
But by
paying a dollar or two, what…
“Respect,
ethics, morals” were dismissed?
And it
became the motto (when felt like it) on non-cap days?!
What kind
of rules are these,
Where every month you pay fees
And you’re
supposed to consider school your second home?
And teachers your second parents?
What is the
world coming to?
The best
effort is demanded from you,
Tip top
manners are expected from you,
‘Doing the
right thing’ people trusted in you.
How can you demand, expect and trust in me
If the
person you want me to be
Isn’t all
that seems to be?
And yet you won’t accept me from me?
As Brain
would say in ‘Pinky and the Brain’:
‘THIS IS
REDUNDANT!!!’