Room 214 Poem by Woojin Lim

was always
an open room
bright and welcoming

from the dawn of day
all throughout busy flextimes
till afternoon musings

collaboration and
vibrant chatters
overflowing

mentorship and support
everyday after school
a lovely heart

in the summer, the windows
would let in streams of
beautiful light

and the fan rattling in the corner
to its rhythm,
pencils scribbling on scantron

the sound of each 50-cent coin
clinking in the poster box bin
filled with special coins of all kinds

hurricane-survived papers on desks
and on the board,
unintelligible mayan scribbles

and
pages and pages
of free printing

it was a busy room
bustling with activity
and quiet studying

clubs hosting debates
for juniors
learning about the world

maps of wars pulled down
for supersocials classes
a soft video projection of schindler's list

and arkhipov's documentary for history
political cartoons and black cats
in philosophy

filled with starbursts,
tangy lollipops and mint chocolates
for those with a sweet tooth

a commonplace for teachers
track-and-field athletes alike
this place was for everyone

and that's what made this room
so great
for five years

this room was our home
I'm really going to miss this place
it won't ever be the same

***
This poem is dedicated to Christopher Pocock, retired teacher.