Tomorrow I'm to face Year Nine again
That bunch of teenage kids who drive me mad
Exasperate me with their constant noise
And inattention and dislike of French.

We're not the same: we live in worlds apart
Where theirs is colourful and far more fun
Than mine. And yet their little lives
Have not seen half the landscape of my own.

But still we are alike. Like Sauron's ring,
Curricula and frameworks bind and hold us.
We're stuck together in a room, as if
This helps Enlightenment to find and mould us.

To be a leader is to model hope
And trust in what each person can become
And to be fair, and manage complex things:
I hope that this is what tomorrow brings.

Tags: iambic poetry