Seeds of Learning

Last year of Juniors
you had a teacher,
Mr Clifford
who set you a busy task -
day in, day out,
copying words from the dictionary.

bahadur – self-important official

He wasn’t the worst teacher.
He didn’t throw rubbers,
or whack you with the slipper.

No, he was a kind man,
rounded,
with soft permed hair,
a relaxed woolly jumper,
and corduroy pants.

Still, he struggled to engage the class.

dysania – the struggle to wake up in the morning,
especially young people

You sat four-squared
in portacabins
where warmth vacillated
like the seasons.
Shivering in winter,
sweating in summer.

You were fictile – capable of being moulded like pottery

He said you’d make
a fine secretary.
Your mother got mad,
expected more from education
that she sorely lacked.

gadzook – a mild oath your mother could have sworn under her breath

In those makeshift walls
your girlfriends giggled.
You were the confident ones.
jannock – outspoken, honest, outgoing

You sang ABBA lyrics
having men after midnight
clothes chafing
against growing bodies.

They became like foreign countries.
Questions blossomed
as budding breasts
and sudden periods
appeared and you had to
kamerad – surrender to the inevitable

Questions posed to teacher
always had the same response
“Look it up in the dictionary”.

Who liked whom?
Who changed first?
What was Durex?

Mr Clifford was a constant in the fixture.
Sat behind his desk, always,
unyielding as those draughty, rattling windows.

Here, in this container of learning,
that smelt of milk
and condensation,
you wore rebellion
like cuirass – a medieval armour.

You didn’t rate your teacher highly.
obelize- to condemn as spurious, doubtful or corrupt

Finishing work swiftly,
your daily task -
words tumbling out like seeds.
Hoping for more than A to Zee.

quackle – to choke, to suffocate

You got bored.
So you chattered while others scribbled.
They taught you a lesson
with tightly nipped claws.
Mr Clifford, at his desk,
completely ignored.

As if he was sadogue – easy-going to the point of not caring

Silence sank in
like the drizzling rain.
You wanted to shout,
yourself to regain.
Instead,
you turned to pain.

whitlow – abscess around fingernail
usually caused by excessive biting

Still, one bright spot
years later did you realise,
a gift lingered,
filled up on words
like zampone- a stuffed pig’s trotter

No, you may not be a secretary,
but in the game of scrabble
no-one ever has you beat.

Not the best teacher,
but the lessons learnt,
stayed with you forever.
Words sprouting like seeds,
vanmost – to be at the forefront
another seven letter word
scoring you 50 bonus points.

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The poem came out of an exercise about the worse teacher you ever had. The words are real, but not ones you'll find in an ordinary dictionary - they are all seven letters too which was a real challlenge.