A Lyrical Day

6:15 my cellphone rings, it’s not a call for me,
The Big & Old Grandfather Clock song tells me where I need to be.
I grumble from my poor excuse for a bed, I might as well rise,
Another day of teenage giggles, squatter toilets and great big lies.
If there’s one thing that Kobe taught me, it’s that the truth won’t set you free,
To make up relatives, adventures, a personality—prevaricating is key.
You, yourself are boring, dull & trite – no one wants to see the real you,
It’s the misleading, blatant falsehoods that will see you through and through.
‘Of course I know Avril Lavigne, she gave me this here tie,’
The trick is just use big words, smile, nod and lie.
So off to school I go each morn, who shall I be today?
What stories can this little class pet weave to make the kids go “ehhhh?”

The staffroom meeting is long and wordy, I test myself a bit.
I understand “Good morning everyone!” and “Ok, folks, that is it.”
This particular staff room encourages all the teachers to have a chat,
The desks aren’t made for anyone with over 2% body fat.
There are no shelves above the desks – everyone is free to peer and leer,
They watch me eat my strange lunch and note when I break open my beer.
My mind is a bit muddled and confused, vowel-ish Japanese fills half my brain,
I grasp on to indefinite pronouns, numbers, someone predicting it might rain.
The other half weeps, shrivels and dies, fraught with misuse and pain,
The language difference is so great, a kid laughs when I say his name.
The taxi driver looks at me like I’m speaking a rare form of shit,
I’ve said my destination 10 times before, but it takes once more for it to hit.

At school I deal with a teacher who places commas completely wrong,
Her verbal statements leave me bewildered, the pauses are that long.
She breathes between every other word, or perhaps she fell asleep,
I sit there waiting, waiting, waiting, should she decide to speak.
The minutes pass, the bells chime, the clock goes tock and tick
I stretch and yawn, take out my stick and prod the narcoleptic.
A cute little teacher of Japanese attempts to have a chat,
He points to a cardboard box on my desk and asks if it’s my hat.
I tell him ‘yes – it’s from New York – a trend—abstract hats are preferred,’
He grins at me, places it upon his head and looks a bit absurd.
In the toilet I must watch my step lest my foot end in the squalid squatter,
It’d be an embarrassing shame for the school should their English fodder,
Be walking through school sporting soiled, sullied shoes,
Yet another reason – Squatters: Why A Nation Should NOT Use.
But my feet stay clear of murky waters, I make it through the day,
This little class pet feels rather weary, today she’s earned her pay.

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Published:
6.19.07 / 5pm
Category:
classroom antics, what i call life