by Julia Griffin

“Bigger classes? Yes, but pupils have got bigger too, say UK teachers
Union delegates say walking into class is like entering the land of the giants”
—The Guardian

I press my shirt, I pack my bag,
I clasp my parking pass,
And off I set for Brobdingnag
To teach my morning class.

A kindly pupil picks me up
And sets me on my chair;
Another lifts my coffee cup,
With admirable care.

I thank them (through my megaphone),
Then raise my yard of chalk
And write a quiz (which means, I own,
A rather dusty walk).

They rarely sulk or answer back:
They fear to make an F;
And thus they’re careful not to snack
On chips that make me deaf.

What souvenirs (conceive the size)
I’ll have when I retire!
—Though when I do, I will advise
A somewhat higher hire.