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