Isobel

The School Play

by Isobel

Tuesday 21st July 2009 7:23 pm

(For Maria)

How I hate the school play

In crammed airless hall

Two hours of my life stolen

To watch other children

Whisper and mumble their way through

Indecipherable plot…

Doting mothers sit next to adoring dads

Who take photos and remind me

That I forgot my camera

And am

A most deficient parent

Exchange knowing looks of pride

Whilst I watch

A foisted corner to their triangle

Because everyone

So nice

But each man plays a part…

I smile, laugh, applaud another’s child

Nod congratulation to relevant parents

Curse the teacher

Who chose a play

Where every child gets a part

In Bugsy Malone

A play full of gangsters and flappers

My child is a tree

No singing and dancing there then

After what seems like an age

On you trundle with three others

Not a unique tree

A jolly green midget

Stiff armed and legged

Holding aloft your twigs

Amid a sea of faces

Your eyes, like magnets

Home, lock, connect

Find mine

Shine

And I am glad

Not to be behind a lens

For we have our own

Photosynthesis

A hint of a smile

Plays around your lips

Cos trees really don’t smile

There is no-one

But me and you in the room

And it’s all worth while

Quite simply

The best tree ever

A star is born.

◄ Cramping My Style

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Comments

chris yates

Thu 30th Jul 2009 11:34

clever observations wonderful tree brought back memories but alas l was never anything!

Isobel

Thu 23rd Jul 2009 01:32

Thanks to all for commenting - this obviously strikes a chord with many. I have to say - my favourite school nativity play anecdote has to be Peter Kayes - when as a child, he was cast as the inkeeper he jettisoned the immortal lines and said instead 'come inside, there is plenty of room...' - you can only imagine the kerfuffle that must have caused amongs his teachers...

Dave Bradley

Wed 22nd Jul 2009 22:53

This is really great. Common humanity - it works very well - we're there with you, we've all lived something like it.

Julian (Admin)

Wed 22nd Jul 2009 11:02

I wasn't there but I remember it well. Thank you. And the photosynthesis is excellent.

Steve Regan

Wed 22nd Jul 2009 10:24

Every good poem contains at least one great, life-affirming concept. Yours here, Isobel, is (for me), the idea of smiling photosynthesis in your tree-child. That's when you know the poem will flower into love, after starting with that expression of hatred, which was really just an expression of fatigue at a social ritual.

Graham Sherwood

Wed 22nd Jul 2009 09:05

Brings back lots of warm memories. My favourite however was not from our own children. my eldest daughter is now one of those teachers who (believe me) look forward to the nativity with just as much enthusiasm.
Best one for me was the large boy angel in the "chorus" who incessantly yawned the whole way through, priceless.

winston plowes

Tue 21st Jul 2009 21:03

Yes.. I have been there too. My daughter once played the angel gabriel in the nativety and was pushed forward by the teacher only to produce the longest and loudest raspberry known to man! You have captured the school play wonderfully Isobel, the best tree ever. :-) Win x

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 21st Jul 2009 19:24

Fabulous, Isobel ... just fabulous. You know all the good things you've done in this poem or it wouldn't be here. Empathy! Empathy!

Anthony Emmerson

Tue 21st Jul 2009 13:43

Hi Isobel,
I can only approach this from my own memories of school plays, where it always seemed that the "posh" kids got the starring roles - so much disappointment. Who knows, given that initial chance and encouragement I could have been George Clooney by now! (Yeh, right!) One thing that stands out for me is that you quite rightly allude to the fact that it is impossible to capture feelings via the camera lens. After reading this I can't imagine for one moment that you are a "deficient" parent. You make tree-hugging sound very respectable.
Regards,
A.E. x

Cate Greenlees

Tue 21st Jul 2009 11:24

Awwww I luv luv luv this Isobel! Why is it our children always get shit parts? My golden haired boy was always cast as an angel which he absolutely hated, and my lovely little girl either an inn keeper or a mangy oxen, when anyone with only half a mind could see she was obviously born to play Mary! Im sure Maria was the most beautiful tree ever, and clever Francine to see there was such a lovely poem in this moment!!
Cate xx

Isobel

Tue 21st Jul 2009 10:08

Another one that owes itself to Francine who urged me to write this after a chance conversation. I'm sure many parents must have been there...

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