Parent-Teacher Meeting – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
This is a dreary gathering
of frumpy middle-aged mums
and grey-haired balding dads
with me uneasy in their midst.
Pillars of the community
they seem quite content,
a little too content perhaps,
having lost that vitality
of youth, solid citizens
set firmly in their ways,
long past the days when
they might have been
the agents of change
or seekers after truth.
Now they follow norms
indeed are the norms
and require their kids
to obey and conform
so that they’ll grow up
to be just like them.
My child’s teachers
greet me politely
with forced smiles
pretending to care
about her welfare
though after a day
at the chalkface
who can blame them
for not really wanting
to be here this evening?
She’s doing alright
in school they say
so everything’s OK
and they reassure me
her future looks bright
if she tries her best
and passes her tests
but as I look around
at this dismal crowd
I think, sweet Jesus,
please don’t let her
ever end up like us.
