By S.F. Wright
We’re to stand
In the corridors
Between classes:
A deterrent
To loitering,
Tarrying.
Usually,
This is annoying;
But before my last class,
I welcome the duty,
Prolong it.
My eighth-period students
Are loud,
Uncontrollable;
Adept at
Using their phones,
But not much
Else.
And I have
To explain stuff to them
Like they were ten.
In a movie,
The teacher would
“Break through”;
These students would
Become enlightened,
Realize their potential
Through
The power of literature—
And with the help of
Their teacher.
Alas, these delinquents
Will just go on
Causing more trouble,
Making a bigger
Mess of their lives than
They already have.
Sometimes,
As I stand in the corridor,
The bell having rung,
The room’s occupants
Getting loud,
Restless,
I have the desire
To walk away,
Quit.
But I enter the classroom,
To attempt
Another
Lesson,
For no other reason than
That it’s my job,
And if I stopped,
It no longer would be.
S.F. Wright lives and teaches in New Jersey. His work has appeared in Hobart, Linden Avenue Literary Journal, and Elm Leaves Journal, among other places. His short story collection, The English Teacher, is forthcoming from Cerasus Poetry, and his website is sfwrightwriter.com.