1777

You can see the harshness of the teacher
In the mildness of the student, the plume
Of smoke rising from the table of celery,
The tethered children on the waterslide.

Everything breathes this resinous air
And thinks back on playing with chemicals;
Even the ameoboid ringleader
Of the mathletes huffs a blueberry marker,

We're just taking that nosedive
For a little spiral over the proving ground.
Yaw. The teacher can exert charisma
But prefers to make the room a valley.