A Sensory Poem on the Subject of Teaching

Created on: 28 Sep 2022 | Last modified: 23 Feb 2023

A ball of rage rocking back and forth
A head of hair cut very short
Feels like velvet - you have to stroke the right way
The beaming smile - the rage gone away.
The interpretation of sounds made.
Communication by tone and volume
The storm of confusion when we’re not on the same wavelength.
A clean room in the morning - chairs stacked, floor swept
By the end of the day a chaos of rice, porridge and ripped off paper.
The cleaning fairy comes in the night and order is restored.
I help them with the chairs before I leave.
The sweet, sharp smell of oranges peeled in the Room of Expressive Arts.
Really a staff room but rooms don’t change their names.
Relief at playtime when we sit in chairs made for grown-ups.
Coffee and fags in the mysterious staff room.
The smell of reassurance when we gather at the feet of Mrs Healey.
Her copper red hair, bright lipstick and yellow teeth.
I thought she was lovely.

By Angie Naughton