Education, a subject,
which we all mastered,
to different degrees
of (certified) achievements;
once left, rejected,
we turned our backs on it all,
but then comes parenting,
and we head back to school:
We have to re-engage
with the playground’s heaving,
sit on shrunken kids’ chairs
at parents’ evening;
look around walls,
search for our kid’s great art,
smile to ourselves,
because his stands apart;
but then we only see
what we want to believe,
and we never believe
what we really see:
Long hours etched
across his tired teacher’s face,
her love of teaching
dulled by SAT’s constraints:
Phonics and screening,
our child’s new ‘true’ voice,
he’s hushed in the corridor,
to avoid Ofsted’s annoyance.
‘Academisation’, is that a real word?
My spell-check refuses,
but then that will re-learn.
Our children, these vessels,
yearly-filled with fear,
failure’s no option
for our school kids this year;
this country is ruining
the health of it’s youth,
whilst our brilliant teachers
are told to improve.