The teachers shivered as they watched the recess horde which never ever ended. It’s death or life, lies or truth. It's them or us. Their eyes glazed around the mob, knowing that some opportunity could lead to havoc.
Like the crack of a jump rope, a type of sizzling chemistry suddenly burst around them, exploding loose. Screw philosophy and fact. Forget about instruction, all the facts from teacher education. Clothes? Who needs them when all hell breaks loose?
Somewhere,
there is an agency, somewhere that will set the playground in order. Over
near the swings there would be a huddled group of people, clutching boxes of books,
reading as if their lives depending on it. The agency will know how to help
them all. Soon.
I wouldn’t
count on help coming anytime soon
I am well versed in recess duty. There is no joy in that place.
The colored words are a Wednesday Word collection from ages ago. Recess memories still remain.
