Dazzling

On the Potential of Classes

My working day fits in colums and boxes
of High School English, Stages 4 to 6,
five colour-coded, fifty-five minute periods
in which anything can happen!

Everyone might have their book and a pen.
The whiteboard might sprout paisley tattoos
and broadcast Shostakovich.
Everyone might remain correctly seated,
an apple might wait on my desk,
and someone might write an extended response,
that is not crying out for red pen.

Maybe everyone will be out of uniform,
and come to school in capes and tights.
Maybe everyone's ties will be tied,
green exclamations on white school shirts.

Maybe the bell will sound six urgent times,
for lockdown, and I will keep the frightened boys
away from the windows, locked in the room
while helicopters spin and noisily spy
on the crime scene that was the playground.

The students might be passionate for complex noun groups,
they might flock to the window to shout at a honking ibis,
or cry with blue empathy for Lady Macbeth.
I might make a sharp point met with dull silence,
I might put the whole of 8B on detention at lunch
and my skirt might fall down and pool about my shoes.

Every student might truant, every student
might do the monkey, every student might simply
complete their tasks to the best of their ability.

Classes carefully programmed might not go to plan,
because anything can happen, and it probably won't!