Carol Ann Duffy - In Mrs. Emma's Class
In Mrs. Emma's Class You could hear the radically soothing sound of a Scottish dialect slithering, oscillating. As she joyfully hopped across from child to child. The squeaking sounds of children, laughing, pondering, waiting for the next stimulating question to... "Peekaboo!" "It's Break Time", she signals. Despondent emotions surged through my body as I slowly walked out, torn. This, this, was better than home. You waited for 7:00 am urgently; The cranky voice of my mother waking me up. You felt exhilarated, elated, yet, that soon faded. Inner Demons? For what may they be? You felt interminably torn in all directions. Pulled. Instead of solving for gravity. Gravity began solving you. Time felt dilated One month, two months, 4 months, 8. Exasperated, you were, by her superfluous tone. Enraged by the months. No, years; That had crawled in the shadows. The profound and monot...