When you leave school at 18,
You look back thinking the years of brain control are over,
You look the teachers in the eye thinking,
“You’ll never hurt me again”
And this seems well and justified.
But then if you have children
The teacher invades your home again
Algorithms, equations, vocab, and art
Bloody art that spills over a long weekend
Giving a stench you can’t quite shake off.
There’s another brick in the wall.