Back To School

Without warning today’s the day that time of the year,

That fills me with wretchedness and unaccounted fear,

I have to go and meet my son’s teachers in his educational lair,

Sit in front of them, trying not to fidget in the supplied torture chair,

One teacher complained that my son got on her nerves that he was a pest,

I told her she was lucky it was one hour a week and not the rest,

Your son packs his books away, being first out to break his concern,

It wouldn’t matter, but it’s at the start of the class so he’s unable to learn,

Your son reads his newspaper right under my nose,

I sniggered, it’s better than talking or starting to doze,

Your son thinks this is a private lesson just for him and me,

He tells me what I am saying is wrong, do you think that’s funny,

He got up and taught the class, dismissing me to the back,

What am I supposed to do about it, he’ll get me the sack,

He hardly does his homework, but does he take me for a fool,

On the occasion he has completed an assignment it’s rolled into a ball,

My eyes glaze over as it gets to the part of what we should do,

I wish he would get a move on, I’m having a hot flush and need the loo,

We agree to follow things up and I mention medicating could be done,

The teacher looks hopeful until I explain the tablet’s for him, not my son.

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One Response to Back To School

  1. Beattie Gellert says:

    You’re lucky that your son stays in the class. According to your father’s teachers he only waited for one break to the next. Family tradition. – Your mum

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