#ukteachers
No sooner through the door
than spider-legged anxiety
scurries back haphazard
like a frenemy whose cactus skin hug
begins in September and ends in July
Sep 7, 2021
Sep 7, 2021 at 7:11 AM UTC
Correlation does not imply causation.
Solid, strong, fact.
But when the month long grey veil
that smothered our holiday is hauled back
just as we return,
sun and fat heat to grill us in our ties and blazers,
I’m inclined, for once, to thumb my nose at science:
nature abhors term time
Sep 3, 2021
Sep 3, 2021 at 12:33 PM UTC
Aspiration? A tricky call.
I’m more than willing to give you a leg up,
but I can’t define where you’ll climb,
or I’ll be the *** who assumes
your *** might become an astronaut,
an assassin for hire,
or just gain enough cash to survive,
or be proudly working class,
or to clash with the establishment
and bring them crashing down
your *** might want to work
hard and fast
or be happy to rock up comfortably last
the amount of possibilities are vast
and equally valid and yours
I’ll lend a mind, some thoughts, some words to help
but for each self to realise themselves,
I’ll not assume,
we know what that would make us
Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 2:33 PM UTC
How’s it going? Honestly?
C’mon, honest like 3 a.m. insomnia?
As the nights’ incremental dimming
draws us inwards,
how are you?
This idiot driven pantomime
of eighteen months
hit as hard as a guilt trip
So if you’re a little scarred,
a little scared,
it’s ok
They say that tomorrow is another day
which it is of course,
but the fear is it’ll send you
off course
But, my dears,
we’re all off course together
and who do I trust to help me
get back to happy paths?
Always, all ways
all of you x
Aug 31, 2021
Aug 31, 2021 at 12:42 PM UTC
As teachers,
(and I know some are back already, sorry)
we are doing the equivalent
of sportsfolk psyching up
Our judo coach is shaking and slapping
while we, in denial, are still mowing lawns
and planning actual meals from recipes
In our dreams, the Bueller…?
Bueller…? Bueller…?
reels are already playing
with our classes disobeying to our faces
So for everyone’s sake
ease us in please
keep us keen and we’ll deal with your progeny
‘til Halloween
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:52 AM UTC
I sat with another clip board, another list
welcoming those whose once small faces,
mad dashes, hot tears
and cold contempts
rattled these walls for five years
Some had beards, some hips, brio,
some adult eyes
that took two or three glances to recognise
the child still in
Almost all had smiles
Behind them, trooping colour to the tennis courts,
their summer school scions
began their own gangly rise
ad infinitum
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 12:32 PM UTC
Battered bookworms
turning a familiar turn
(always left)
For those that leave:
your threads become part of the tapestry,
a picture writ with deep love, excitement, applause,
dire fears and tiredness,
here be dragons and arrows in eyes
but despite the hamfists
of some intrusive hands,
there to see forever
Jul 17, 2021
Jul 17, 2021 at 1:28 AM UTC
Better than ****** Christmas
this six weeks that we continually justify
that stop our hands breaking,
the dying of hearts and minds
though in the middle
somewhere
when we regain our human form
sometimes storms rage a bit
and we stand, clifftop howling
at an unknown moon
on return we’ll have lost friends, loves,
yet be reborn to care, to teach,
to take the slings and arrows again
from this pauper’s fortune
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 4:28 PM UTC
Oh, my tired sisters and brothers
I know.
Each and every step and gesture
has hidden lead weights attached
and everything lifted now hurts
You are allowed the involuntary grunt
or voluntary tear as you stand,
all eyes and ears are itchy with
tired
There is still a smile allowed
as long as we keep an end in sight
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 12:18 PM UTC
My word
nothing does love/hate
quite as poetically
as a teacher reaching holiday’s end
intrinsic guilt of ‘not having done’
bound up with seeing our colleagues
loved and hated
again
and those ****** beautiful, ugly
broken-bright
impossible-everyday kids
my words
Jun 5, 2021
Jun 5, 2021 at 12:38 PM UTC
Friday night fleeing from the scrum
like the last thing on our minds
are other people’s kids:
the outrageous, hysterical bashing we take
hour by hour as
we
just
try
while each successive boss quickly forgets front lines
and asks for ‘evidence’
of piling into the meat grinder
Then something tiny reminds
why we’re even here:
a flood of tears perhaps as dogs have died
or that kid who says “I’m a microwave
bzzzzzzzzz”
and despite our glowering frowns
we smile so hard we cry
May 21, 2021
May 21, 2021 at 1:20 PM UTC