Cutting School
Just before 1st period,
jacked up on 100% of the
caffeine from the best Colombian
coffee beans that money can buy,
I made an executive decision.
I ran, did not walk, ran
screaming down the hall, paying
no attention to the other teachers,
all pain-stakingly lecturing away like
little worker bees to the glossed-over
eyes of the disinterested, as if each
were Plato, reciting The Republic.
I turned the run into a sprint,
Tom Cruise style, arms in full blown
pumping action as I lofted a folder
full of handouts in the air behind
me, leaving the huge flakes falling
in my slipstream, banging the bar
to the parking lot door like an
NFL lineman leaving the line
of scrimmage, then slid TV-detective
like over the hood of my car, jumped
in, starting it in one fell swoop, barely
missing a school bus and a startled
group of 4th graders, book bags-a-flying
as I peeled out of the lot, as eager
as a C-average senior on the last
day of school, no plan, packing
six dollars in my pocket, the sun
in my face, my hat turned backwards,
a defiant grin and a world of asphalt
opportunity in front of me.
Steve Shilling
