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School Days
(11th grade complaints)
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I get up in the morning and I wish I was in bed.
I eat my frozen waffles and I feel like I am dead.
I go outside, wait for the bus in shining sun or rain.
Eight-fifteen in the morning and it’s so hard on my brain!
I sit there in the school room until ten of nine comes by,
And I go to my homeroom and I think I’m gonna cry.
First class I have is German. “Es geht mir schlecht,” I say.*
Typing’s next; my fingers hurt. I break them every day.
Next is American Cultures. Term papers today are due.
Then lunch, my lands! You call this lunch? I’ll eat it and turn blue.
Then algebra, the boring class. I know it all, you see.
Then phys. ed/health on different days, push-ups are killing me.
Next English, oh what English. I write what I am told.
Then study hall in one-four-five, my feet are freezing cold.
Oh, chemistry, with Vanderau. His lectures sure go slow.
First it’s three, then three-two-five, at last it’s time to go.
It’s then that I have energy to do all things I wish,
To run around or babysit or throw Stephen to the fish.
But then it’s night, the bugs come out, so always I go in.
To sleep with dreams ‘til seven a.m., when this starts o’er again.

*translated ‘It goes bad (awful) with me.’
 
Copyright © 1988 by Judith E. Garling

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