#WritcoPoemPrompt49 @AtulPurohit
The days of slate and chalk,
Are not easy to erase,
They hold memories,
Of my childhood,

The sound of
Ms. Harrison's nails
Scraping along

As she gripped the chalk
Scribbling out
A pointless lesson of
'Pythagorean theorem'

She smacked her gum
Clicked her pen
Wreaked of stale coffee
With a hint of last night's rum

She was mean
But I had it easy
She was my neighbour
I mowed her lawn
For lunch money

French immersion
An unpopular choice
In our small town
Two teachers
Took on the circulum

Ms Harrison
Handled
Science & Math

Mr Macleod
A funny litrle man
Taught
French & social studies

Vivid imagery
Lives in my mind
He was a narcoleptic
Snoozy & drooly

He'd leave a saliva trail
On the overhead projector
Blurring the lines
The transparencies
A collector

He would fall asleep
At optimal times
Us,
Little heathens
Took the opportunity
To swap tests
& revise

I often found myself
isolated in the hall
Mr. Macleod
had it out for me
he called me the devil child

Detention
an hour with friends
his hour to nap
cracking jokes
til he startled awake
with a loud hand clap

Underpaid
and underappreciated
as a kid I couldn’t
comprehend
a lick of it

It’s a tough gig
Educating
so here’s to the teachers
past and present