After School

The school bell tolled.
They packed haphazardly,
And rushed the prayers
Much to their teachers’ grief,
And out they ran with screams and cheers,
That left the teachers sighing in relief.

Each has their story of the school day gone.
“I hate my Teacher Miss Lubin
She pinches me all black and blue….”
“See mine’s just missing horns and claws,
She threatened to stick my mouth with glitter glue….”
And on and on their stories go, highlighting all the teachers’ flaws.

Others steal time for fun.
Books and bags abandoned on the grassy field,
Flying little white paper planes,
As they race against each other.
Free from storming their little brains,
They laugh and play without a bother.

Under the cedar trees sat a few to rest.
One of which with prized goodies,
A biscuit and more snacks to share.
I smile at how she makes them beg
And treat her like a queen on air.
But she gives them all and leaves her lunch bag bare.

It’s quite nostalgic to see them all.
Bows and trims, blue uniforms,
Bags swinging, chatting and laughing,
Laces loose and pockets torn,
What a sight for Jonathan Gladding,
As they slowly head home all wrinkled and worn.

By: Silma Blanchard