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Our mark in passingby Spooky Poet
This is a poem I wrote while still in Public School about... well, public school. I was in my school's "gifted and talented" program yet recieved no guidance, counseling or consideration for the particular challenges that Gifted students face. The attitude was that of "You are Gifted, thus you should excel with minimal effort in all of your classes." Yeah, okay. I would if I wasn't so damn bored by the lack of challenge that I stop paying attention long enough to lose track of the lesson.
Our Mark In Passing December 5, 1989
Look at us, sitting in rows organized and lined up. Our seats identical. Only our faces and clothes are different and they can even make our clothes the same if they decide to. Eight times a day we go to the same places we were the day before. The teacher checks each day to be sure you're in the same seat you were in the day before. And to think, this place is supposed to teach us to be "well rounded individuals." Sure, we'll be well rounded, every corner will have been smoothed over, So that our rough edges will not catch, snag or irritate the Walls as we are processed through this building. Heaven forbid we make a mark on the instituion as we pass. "Say "thankyou" to all the teachers, even the ones you hate and say only happy things to the parents when you graduate, then smile and go away. Fit in with society the way we made you to fit, don't make waves, don't change things, or we will have failed in our attempt of programming you as we taught." But we will not come out as individuals, our rough edges and corners made us different, and so in smoothing them over they rub out and cover up our identities. All that lost so that the System can process us through without wearing out. Yet some of us are hard, like diamonds, we cannot be smoothed and the Walls bleed with change where we have been pushed through. The wound will heal but there will still be the scar, we will have made our mark in passing.
Note: I had a habit of walking down the hallways with my hands "clawing" the painted cinderblock walls of my school well before I wrote this poem. It was a friend that pointed out the possible symbology of that after she read the poem.
This poem was "borrowed" from http://www.geocities.com/iamananka/
Written by: Spooky Poet
5 December 1989
[Next: 11 to 12] Total: 12
(freesleepy62 AT gmail DOT com )
23 May 2010
I refuse to be smoothed for even my mother can't tame me.
6 July 2009
Fell the same way. But every time they try to smooth me, another edge forms.
10 December 2008
All i can say is... huh ? !
but if it is against the horror that is school rock on!
(kmissypink3 AT aol DOT com )
30 November 2008
you are really talented! i totally agree with you and the symbolism rocks! great poem!
(flakmagnet72 AT yahoo DOT com )
12 November 2008
I am the author of this poem, and I'm gratified to read that some of you have enjoyed it. I'm older now, and I see my eldest son beginning to experience many of the same issues and problems that I experienced as a gifted child in an un-supportive scholastic system.
Best of luck to everyone. Remember, anyone who tells you that your school years are as good as it gets is lying and/or pining for their own "glory days" after having "spent their wad" in life. Life gets better...
Formerly known as Spooky Poet.
(none AT aol DOT com )
20 May 2008
symbology .... lol
(sitcom_writer AT hotmail DOT com )
5 December 2006
I've read a few of your pieces and think your a really talented writer. At my school their whole policy is "respect" but the teachers had better learn to give it, if they want to except it. I have to have "special help" too, but I'm not placed in an actual "Special" class. Just in math & Science is the classes I "majorly" struggle in. I would LOVE for you to E-mail me, so we can talk about our teachers & exchange advice. :)
¥Im a girl¥ --just so ya know...
17 August 2006
Very nice, that is beautiful. I'm in a gifted class as well and this is how I feel a lot of the time, although I've only been in school for 2 days. My locker is far away from my classes, and I'm usually within a minute of being late, but I haven't yet been tardy. Although, it's ironic that the meanest teacher has the classroom farthest away from my locker. This is a breathtaking poem, but I'm off to do my homework... But don't worry, I haven't yet been smoothed. I mostly hide my creative talents in school, but I know they hold my future writing career and that I will always be an individual. Good luck to everyone who has ever disliked school at all...At least my parents are on my side. But, to get your morales back up, once my dad got some custom-ordered pencils for school that had the name of his town and the word petitentuary next to it, implying that that's where he was. It got sent to the prison instead , and when it finally got sent back to him, the order said "not an inmate"! Hehehe...
(RATSKING77 AT YAHOO DOT COM )
19 May 2006
I DONT GET WERE U GET UR LINES FROM BUT IT SUCKS!!!!!