Christine Turkovich
Class begins when the morning bell rings.
Getting comfortable, you shift from left to right.
Settle yourself in to the place you call your own.
That familiar splintery engraved stool
Embossed with mentions of former tenants.
It has character, color and definition.
Rest upon his sturdy wide arms.
Comforting you from the torments of adolescents,
That tiny wooden square attached to his arms
That, becomes your brain.
Massaging and poking at your daily life.
Always straightening your shoulders,
And keeping your chin up.
Essentially, a mold for your person.
If that home is vacant, you're out for a day.
With him you will succeed,
With him you will fail.
Don't worry he's only on loan,
For all too soon another tenant shall take him.
And you can buy a chair of your own.
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(c) 1999 Christine Turkovich. All rights reserved.
Appears in Schools of Verse: An Anthology of Poetry About School, Fall 1999.