return to poetrydust
Transparencies
during a physics class
No longer does she choose to dirty her hands with chalk
No longer do we watch her do so
No longer does what she teach
Have full visibility
The specks of chalk in the air are now scratches on her presentation.
No longer are her lessons more than fuzzy textbooked amateurity
No longer does she feel independent
Since transparencies came into her life.
Since light and markers and projectors came into her life.
Since she felt she needed artificiality
so her lessons come to life.
No longer does she feel what she knows is enough
For us in life
No longer does she break from conformities a syllabus brings
No longer are my notes derived from her lessons
Because since then her lessons have passed me -- us -- by.
No longer do they contain impact
Since they've become transparent
No longer does inspiration strike within
No longer does she seem at all confident, spirited
No longer do I listen.
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Note: A little inspired by Allen Ginsberg. I'm willing to bet a hundred dollars that if I take away my teacher's textbook, notes and transparencies that she wouldn't be able to teach us Physics at all. Not that she wouldn't want to, she wouldn't be able to. Her every word relies heavily on her prepared script. What's more, she isn't the only teacher in my school who's like that.