A Substitute's Foe

I.

The moment I walk in,

I see your eyes trained on me.

You follow me

as I walk down the aisle toward

the teacher's desk where I lay

my belongings.

Your eyes, I can feel

digging deep

into me, trying to

discover what my true designs

might be.

II.

I can tell by that sly smile

on your ruby red cheeks that

something sinister is stirring

in that finely combed head.

You lean over and whisper

something to your peers.

Insidious smirks cross their

faces. And I know I'm in

for a very long day.

III.

You know there's a simple rule

about me: I'm here today,

but I'm gone tomorrow.

Once, I may be in your life.

"Once" is all you have to give

And that once means hell.

Your peers surrounding

you know the score.

This is your time to make them proud.

To underscore

authority and mark one

up for all those doing time

in this mandatory jail called school.

IV.

Role call given, I receive

the appropriate "here!"

or "Yes!" from your peers.

But you, smiling little devil you are

reply,

"Yo Homes!" And laughter jangles

the white-tiled ceiling and

ironclad windows.

I shake my head.

I can't let that slide.

V.

So I correct you with a

warning and declare:

"The name is not Homes."

Your trap is closed.

You actually shut up!

But I wonder for how long?

From here on in,

I'm on to your game.

And I better keep pace

with this game at hand.

VI.

It doesn't take long.

You start to play.

But recess is two periods away.

Your name is on the pine green board.

Checks begin to sprout like spores.

Others join in on the fun.

So it's time for you to go

And speak to the lady in her office.

VII.

Suddenly a threat becomes

a promise and your innocence

returns:

"But teach, please don't let me go?"

Your head sinks to the

table and is buried in your arms.

I hear the painful moans and sobs.

Your body contorts as the realization

of your fate sinks in.

For a moment, I reconsider,

Then I remember

it's just a ploy.

And my compassion

goes out the classroom door.

VIII.

It's too late, you lost the race.

So here is a pink slip to

the office, as your consolation

prize in this game you made.

And out that door you go.

IX.

But you are not finished.

Your essence will take on a

new rambunctious form.

You will embrace another student

at the next school I'm at.

X.

You'll take on the challenge,

and try to knock me down.

But you'll always lose in the end.

It makes me wonder, haven't

you figured it out, yet?

I'm not here to play.

So keep your games at bay.