School Photos
In the school corridor, there’s a school photo,
And dead centre, there’s me, 2001, eight or nine years old
Fringe almost in my eyes, pale face, impish grin,
On a grey day in the playground – I can’t say I remember it well
And he’s staring down across the corridor at a school photo
2022, my thirtieth birthday, I’m there, off-centre, hands in my lap
Round my neck a tie I didn’t tie from my old university,
Sat with the staff, Office Administrator, hair kempt, cheesy grin
And he’s staring down across the corridor at me,
Coat on for the last time, round my neck the scarf my Granny knitted.
Picking up my bag, taking my leaving presents and saying goodbye,
Staring down the corridor for one last time.
Over the course of the Poetry Advent Calendar this year and last, I’ve alluded a few times to working in a school. In actual fact, it’s the same primary school that I went to, for seven years, and it has been nice to be back – although today was officially my last day, as I’m off to pastures new. It’s a natural thing, a good move career-wise, but a gently sad thing too, as I feel like a significant chunk of my three decades on Earth has been intertwined with the place, and the building that has barely changed since I aced my Year 6 SATs. Even in my teenage years, when I was in an amateur dramatics group (as I think I referenced ages ago here) we used to rehearse in the school hall, so it’s been a big part of my life. I also associate it closely with my beloved Granny, who used to pick me and my brothers up every afternoon, always ready with a squashy cuddle and softmint, so I’m glad I was able to give her a mention today too. At one point, in the front garden of the school, there used to be a tree or shrub she’d had planted there in my memory of my Grandad, who died when I was five. I don’t think it’s there anymore, which makes me a bit sad.
I also mentioned my ‘kempt’ hair (no idea if that’s a proper word or not), and today, in the final assembly of the term, a Christmas singalong celebration, a girl in Year 2 sidled up to me, and very innocently told me “in your new job, you won’t be allowed to have messy hair like you do now.” After a minute’s pause, she looked up at me again, wide-eyed, and said: “What are you, lazy or something?” I threw my head back and roared with laughter, and then joined in dancing with the rest of them.
There was a lovely song that got sung today, that gets sung at Our Lady of Lourdes at any ‘leaving assembly’, as today was. It’s led by the Principal on the ukulele, and although the chorus is always the same the verses always change to honour who’s leaving. There was one for me today, along the lines of “You were here as a pupil so long ago/Today it’s goodbye, but forever, who knows?” The lovely bit though was the chorus – “So long, we’ve been glad to know you (x 3)/We’ll miss you when you are gone/But it’s time to keep drifting along.”
I’ve had it in my head all afternoon. I’ll keep it in my head, and my heart, as I keep drifting along.
Thanks OLOL. Good luck with Ofsted.
And it’s so long. Five days to go…
Owen x
The Poetry Advent Calendar 