Twas the week before break, and all through the school
The students were wired, and acting the fool
The teachers were trying, lessons in hand
With hope that their knowledge, in a brain it would land
The students were focused on phones and on dreams
Completely oblivious to dear teacher’s screams
And I with my lessons, clutched tightly to chest
Talked myself hoarse, and hoped for the best
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter
I abandoned my post, to see what was the matter
Straight to the door I strode with intent
To find a young student, standing half-bent
“Back inside you go!” I ordered with might
He couldn’t complain, his voice was too tight
“What is it with you?” I wanted to implore
But I restrained myself, not asking wherefore
I knew the reason for frenzy, not being immune
“Now ladies, now gentleman! Vacation starts soon
But stay with me now! There’s still more to learn!”
But they saw, and I felt, me becoming less stern
Twas but one of me, and many of them
I felt myself swaying, though I tried to condemn
“Your behaviour’s off-task!” I spurted by habit
When we all knew, I’d rather let them have at it
“Ms. MacKenzie,” they said, “can’t we just chill?”
The thought, I will admit, gave me a thrill
“No, we cannot! The semester’s near done
We have to focus, to learn, there’s no time for fun!”
My statement was true, but it didn’t matter
There was no learning to do, above all the chatter
“Students! Please tell me, what do you know
of hockey in Montreal, and in Toronto?”
I had their attention, curiosity won out
And one by one, the students start to spout
“The Leafs never win! Neither does Montreal
They’re original six teams, but they’ve had a fall”
“It’s storytime,” I said, as I took my chair
Opened my picture book, and pushed back my hair
I would read to these teens, and they’d focus close
To the tale of the jerseys, and the child morose
Hockey fan or not, they’re Canadian still
And they get the sport, if against their will
So they watch, and they listen, as I read aloud
With respect, and interest, which makes me proud
They think that we’re playing, that we’re not doing work
But what they don’t realize, would drive them berserk
Their Prescribed Learning Outcomes require some culture
And I can smell an in, like a circling vulture
Of Maurice Richard, we talk on this day
Of Habs and Leafs, and understandings that stay
But beneath it all, behind the story
Ms. MacKenzie is waiting, ‘til that bell strikes two-forty
