The Trials of Getting Educated. A Poem.

Yet another visit to the Headmistress.
My form teacher has sent me to her.
I don’t think my teacher likes me.
She thinks I’m precocious because
I’ve used the word “anticipated” in my essay.

I’m in front of Miss Duke, again!!
Same teacher has sent me to her.
It’s my hair this time.
Mum’s friend has permed it for me.
I admit I do look like Shirley Temple.
My teacher need not have worried.
I lost the curls after a couple of washes.

I’ve moved on from Markhams Chase school
to Laindon High Road school.
I’m in front of Mr Woodward the Headmaster.
My cookery teacher has sent me because
I refused to empty the pig bin.
It would have made my physically sick to do it.
She asked me did I do it at home as a chore.
I said “No, Mummy employs a lady who does it.”
She says I’m insolent.

I’m nearly sixteen now.
I’ve stayed on at school to do typing and shorthand.
I’m in front of Mr Woodward, again!!
I’ve refused to run round the streets in my knickers.
The PE teacher is a local girl.
She doesn’t like me ‘cause I know a lot about her.

Dad has written to Mr Woodward and asked where
his letter asking permission for me to leave the school
premises during school hours is.
There never was one.
The girls don’t run in the streets any more.

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