A Schoolgirl’s Retort

They stole my sunlit soul.

I’d own it back, but how?

They’ve dug us square-grid holes.

Ripe roundness not allowed.

Boards think they’re doing good,

all bodies, slotted, saved.

Have they misunderstood? —

No virtuous lot’s encaved!

Philosophers and poets

have taught so all along,

but fearing to bestow it,

our teachers do us wrong.

Their guilt’s our “wellness” class,

and doubled assing goads!

More stall time? — Dis ’em, pass!

We’re broke, their care o’er loads.

— — — — — — — — — -

Written for my daughter, Abigail, age 15, when her public high school in Anne Arundel County, MD (online since March) realized that kids weren’t learning well or keeping well online, and concluded they need more online classes and online treatments. As if more poison cures itself.