The Math Teacher Poem by John Agandin

With light nervous steps, he trod in
As one aroused from an upshot of gin
And stood abashed, a shadow ill-prepared,
His sealed quivering lips unassured
Whether it be fractions or portions
Change of subject or meaningless expressions
Pondering where and how to begin
Whilst they continued their din
Not heeding the unsettled guest
Framed in the doorway aghast
Clutching a heavy textbook
With a finger locked in the nook.

A well-pressed shirt that daintily sat
And shoes black as night pat
Were all they could admire of him.
For he could neither add nor multiply
Save by that book he held to comply.
And he stammered badly enough
To send them reeling to the north.
He was thrust upon them without a session
And they could instruct him with fair revision.
But he messed up his very first lesson
('He's killing us' she said)
So they bundled whatever standing he had
And sent it through the window hard
Slapping their hands together as if to say
Teaching Maths is not a child's play!