Dear Class

We are all floundering somewhat in the dark.
Whatever English wants from you and me
it cannot be your genius I mark.

Stumbling around like beasts on board the Ark
slowly getting used to the winedark sea,
we are all floundering somewhat in the dark.

I take a red pen. Then I make my mark
reproving syntax, pith or fluency:
it cannot be your genius I mark.

In fact my bite is no worse than my bark.
Write sweetly; emulate the honey-bee;
we are all floundering somewhat in the dark.

You may be born to music, like a skylark,
or grind out narrative relentlessly
but it won’t be your genius that I mark.

A teacher is a licensed kind of nark
barking, ‘Do this,’ ‘Do that,’ intrusively.
Since it can’t be your genius that I mark
we are all floundering somewhat in the dark.

 

 

 

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