In the morning when the first shrill bell is nigh
Like a student lulled to sleep upon a desktop;
Let us go, through lunch time's swift-deserted halls,
The caterwauling bawls
Of teachers striving to be heard at all
Ring out for validation from their peers,
In hopes that they can make it 30 years.
Halls that hold us like a warden without guilt,
Which society has built.
No longer the profession that it once was,
Reviled rather than valued,
Another target to be sued.
In the class the children come and go
Talking of hardships, tales of woe.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
Have measured out my life, not with coffee spoons;
But with duty days I count each brand new fall
The parking lot, the games, and the lunch room.
My life can now resume.
Heh, heh. Wasn't THAT uplifting? It's a parody, people! A parody! But let the record show:
Mrs.Thevictorian has only five duty days left this year!
Sure, there's that pesky next year looming on the horizon. But I'm a short-timer now.
The finish line is in sight.