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!!!’

 

ZPOETRY

ZBOOKCLUB