The rain has started falling,

The nights are drawing back in.

Dreary uniforms adorn our shops,

A new school year is about to begin.

 

A bead of sweat runs down my brow,

I wake up early from a troubled sleep.

The beat of that drum is distant now,

But Back to School is still a trauma,

A river which runs so dark and deep.

In nightmares when, by chance I rove,

Around every corner lurks a Michael Gove!

 

Teaching is such a noble profession,

Dragging new citizens into line.

One begins with golden intentions-

Forging the future from each bright brain-

Until one awakes in early September,

To discover you’re climbing up Everest,

Again!

 

And so, to this September…

I am a political football no more,

Responding to the government’s directives,

No more.

I turn over in bed and I start to snore!

I do spare a thought for erstwhile colleagues,

Squaring the circle, splitting the atom,

Hitting their targets relentlessly,

Conjuring up educational symmetry.

I celebrate their conscientiousness,

In a smooth-flowing, worry-free

Easy-going line of poetry…