Who sat at the back row; you know that section which constantly received the teacher’s scowl
And we constantly wondered
What it was with the back row
Why were they bothered?
The Math Teacher always with the word problems
He couldn’t figure it out
That be it math or algebra we wanted out.
The chemistry master always had a bad reaction
Like we had a hand in his unbalanced life equation
And the Economics teacher with his graphs on income and how it should be spent
And we would all stare all day at his regrettable shoes and wondered
Well how much he had spent
And we would stare forlornly
Just through the window outside awaiting the time we would leave to practice the art of whom we are
What we wanted and where we were not confined
For those who were weird in class not to be judged by rules or what they thought right…
For in our open limitless minds we knew they were of short sight.