Some classes drag on for hours,
Although they are only 75 minutes long.
I slouch, I’m bored, I doodle, I’m tired.
The teacher lectures, students take notes.
I notice the teacher’s tie.
It doesn’t match his shirt.
It’s the same he wore 3 times last week.
I loose track of the lesson.
I can’t catch on, I loose all interest.

Some classes fly by.
There’s interaction, communication, connection.
Students voice their opinions,
Teachers make you feel like part of the lesson.
Hands on, presentations, PowerPoint’s—
Anything to grab hold of our attention.
Once in a while, a lecture is necessary,
Which is ok, because I know it won’t last long.
After all, we need some proof for the inspector,
If she asks for specific lesson structures.

Some classes consume me.
My eyebrows are intertwined,
As I try and make a connection.
I can see the missing link,
But it’s just out of my reach.
I crawl into my little space,
And think hard about possible meanings.
I take notes like my life depends on it,
And I pass the course with a 50.
It’s not hard. I just don’t get it.
It’s not that I don’t want too.
I try, but I can’t develop an understanding.

Some classes, I guess I just don’t mind.
I sit down, interested in starting a new class.
If I trail of for a few minutes,
To a place far away—farther than the sun,
And I find my footing in the room again,
I can catch on, and be that student
Who answers questions with intelligence
And sits with interest in her chair.