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andrea coltman

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  School Days
by andrea coltman
Monday, June 28, 2004
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Recent poems by andrea coltman
•  You Give Me
•  Vive la Vie...! ( Live the Life...!)
•  For Mum
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School Days


School days, school days

The best days of your life

Never dream of a future

Carving a career, becoming a wife

Those days are behind me

I thank the Lord for that

Never to wear a brown uniform

Or a dark brown felt hat


I’d arrive at school always

On time, sometimes early, never late

But the feelings would churn over

To despair, dread, loathing, even hate

My mind would eternally say

What am I doing here?


As I passed through the school gate

The smell of over cooked cabbage and stew

And of lumpy custard and sponge pudding too

Meals the canteen staff would lovingly prepare

Oh, and the waft of minted peas filled the air

I’d feel sick at the thought of sitting there

On a rickety stool, I’d wished was a chair


The headmistress was a sadist

Of that I am sure

A total personality transplant

Would for her, not be enough of a cure

The headmistress was a force to be reckoned

As she’d stand and deliver a speech

Of how much she needed us to achieve

How I wish I could just up and leave


On occasion she’d point and beckon

An unsuspecting girl to her office

A huge sigh of relief, it’s not me

Please someone ring the bell

Then I can go home, be free


Miss Hitler as we called her then

Would strut round the school yard

With Gering, the secretary, at her side

When we saw them coming, we’d try to hide

They were uncaring, sadistic, more than hard

“Results, results I expect good results.”

Not the school motto, though it should have been

Instead it was in Latin “In God I believe.”

Mine was, “God please, please can I leave.”


© Andrea Coltman



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Reviewed by Jane Rodway 7/1/2004
This is quite a tale, really puts the time and images in the reader's mind, nice work.
Reviewed by A Serviceable Villain 6/30/2004
An excellent piece, Andrea - greatly enjoyed this prose! Robert.
Reviewed by E T Waldron 6/30/2004
That's a wonderful photo Andrea! Isn't it a shame to
have such awful memories of school. A time when we should
feel full of the love of life! Excellent poem on the topic!
Reviewed by John Banasiewicz Jr 6/29/2004
Well Nuns didn't let us wear a dress but for sure the shirt and tie was a killer. No come to think of it kneeling on broom stick because ..well just because better not say why was the killer. Great memories here also from my early days of school..
thank you
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 6/28/2004
Hahahaha...Yes This brought back some good old memories Andrea!!

Knock knees and white socks...and ribbons in the hair!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Dale Clark 6/28/2004
lol yes I can relate. :) Great!
Reviewed by Magnus Rater (Reader) 6/28/2004
Oh yes!! Why do we do the jobs we do?
The motivations from the unconscious - the actions of the conscious.

Look at the results!

Then again, each experience is a singlualr link in an everlasting chain - where did it all begin and why?

As always, Andrea - you hit nails on their heads! Great stuff.
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader) 6/28/2004
LOL ED, I went to Notre dame convent crawley, and had the penquin attacks.
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 6/28/2004
Miss Hitler and Gering! Funny, yet so sad in many ways. I had the mad marching nuns, who never smiled, who used their wooden rulers with delight on our backsides, and who I often wondered if they ever had any fun at all.

Enjoyed this, Andrea.
Reviewed by Carmen Ruggero 6/28/2004
Good poem, Andrea. It reminds me of my second grade experience -- just couldn't wait to go home. School should be a joyous time for children, too bad more often than we care to think of, it is not. Thank you for this post.

Carmen :-)
Reviewed by Sandie Angel 6/28/2004
What a good looking student you are in that pic! This one reminds me so much of my school years. Yes, they were happy years even with the seemingly satanist type of teachers. Heeeheee!

~ May Lu a.k.a. Sandie May Angel ~
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