Now school is back in session, I feel I’ve really learned my lesson. All those weeks I moaned, when normality was postponed and now they’ve come home, with what I can only hope to be a cold.
I’ve realised there are things that I’d forgotten, when shielding just felt so rotten. About how they’d drive me up the wall, but they were just as sick of me, if not more. Now I’ve developed a new appreciation, for isolation as a nation, as we watch with bitter breath for those who lead us in this abomination.
Oh how I miss the good old days, when home schooling set the house ablaze. In a bubble on the Hill, feeling kind of chill, we totally had this down but now I can’t erase my constant frown. Because really what comes first has also become our curse. But sending them to school just feels so much worse.
‘It’s safe’ they say, forgive me if I don’t hoorey, but each and every day, as I walk the one and only way, I know they want to stay but we do it anyway. This feels like foul play, by those we’ve held to guide our way. But what will be the price we pay?
It’s those bubbles again, the ones they created to apparently contain. To keep the system flowing even when the cracks start showing, a bubble is all we need to feed their thirsty greed. The number drops to six but the reasoning is all a mix, will we ever understand, the game they play by our hand? Forever just the pawns, as the dealers lead the draw and the gamble we make, each an every day, is the safely of our loved ones, the ones we so desperately want to save.
It’s a new normal with a twist, but the twist is the risk, it’s a risk to our kids, their teachers just as much, but as such, we’re expected not to speak, not to be loud or make a squeak. When will the day come, when parents bang their drum, united in their cause, for a battle, to step up and give pause?
And now onto the tests, well isn’t that one just a mess. It’s a game of chess, with us the pawns again, they’re allocating blame and in between the lines they hide and deny, they do it all wrong, whether blind or by by song, but surely they know, the best way to go, they simply choose to turn the other way.
Sometimes I think, as I hover on the brink, when will this and end and will it be the ending that we dream. The one we deserve or will it be much worse. At times it’s spelled out for us to see, it’s of our own doing, would you agree? At least that’s what they say, as they hide away their sin for that day, in a box I imagine to be hid under their bed, for you can’t fall asleep with guilt in your head.