The crack and shine of opening a new textbook.
The feeling of too warm to wear a t-shirt under my shirt in the afternoon and too cold in the morning not to wear one.
The sparkling new desk on the first day of class.
Standing single-file in a crowded line carrying a tray in the cafeteria.
The lettuce soaked in Soviet, now Russian, dressing.
The beef macaroni in the days before I was a vegetarian.
The milk I was careful to conserve so I had plenty at the end of the meal.
The sting on my buttocks from the tyrannical ruler the teacher was using to spank me.
The closed circuit television program specially for our class.
The radio in art class playing songs we've all heard a thousand times before, yet never got tired of.
The rattle of the film projector showing movies we didn't have to pay admission for.
Changing my smelly clothes in the locker room after phy ed.
Reading the obscene graffiti in the boy's rest room. Later, I was surprised to learn it was written by the teachers.
Well articulated and nicely penned with clarity of thought and mind. A beautiful reflection elegantly brought forth with conviction. Thanks for sharing, Jon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some of your memories are the same as mine, some very different. I never got spanked as a student, and in 40 years as a teacher, never spanked anyone. Thanks for the memories, and welcome to Poem Hunter!