(The education system was most affected by the pandemic and our teachers are no less essential workers. This poem is written from the point of view of a 30-something secondary school teacher. Having observed her struggles, up, close and personal, this poem is an ode to her and many like her. )
Rising before the world awakes
I make my way down to school.
Gusting past in the rickshaw,
With the morning zephyr so cool!
Greeted by your sing-songy
I try to stifle a chuckle
The assembly commences
Intently observing tie, belt, and buckle!
With your sleepy troddles
The way to the class you take,
I love your little attempts
To unsuccessfully stay awake!
Curious eyes stare at me,
Some filled with excitement,
Some with a hint of drudgery
Oh! How it takes me back
To my days of tomfoolery!
After dispersal I head home,
Utterly exhausted;wanting to leap to the bed!
Admonishingly, the lesson plan slaps me on the head.
I often ponder,
As I stare intently at the year calendar.
April and May look empty,
Compared to the busy year!
All this came to a standstill
As the world was taken ill,
Warm smiles left, replaced by cold screens.
In-class learning swapped mercilessly
By ennuyeuse online means!
We put on a strong front
As insecurities gnawed
Yet again we took the blame
for the system so flawed!
We brave through the gossips, the secret photos taken,
The meme material we offer, the butt of jokes we become.
It is not for the 50, 100, or 200 we teach,
It is that undying hope that at least a few will make that reach.
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