Before the White Boards

[StanleyZ]

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook,
for a teacher.

This speaker seems quite indifferent to all the people described here. The fact that he/she describes the desks as separating a continent reinforces the distance this atmosphere creates. Is the speaker trying to say that the reason he/she can still recall what a covalant bond after 30 years is, because he/she was not distracted by the other students, and also out of fear of the teacher? One thing I'm having trouble with is figuring out the beach ball metaphor. If my pupils were dressed like beach balls I don't think I would pass that class, after all the connotation of beach ball instantly brings the thought of the beach to mind, I get a lot of skimpy outfits when I imagine it, you know bikinis and all. Maybe that is just me being a lecher, but if that is what you were going for I don't quite grasp how it is relevant to the rest of the descriptions here. Everything else is dreary and serious. In fact I think knowledge/learning is the most positively described thing in this poem. Ole Billy takes the role of bad guy. Even his name sounds menacing, and I like how you used his first name, not giving him the satisfaction of being categorized as a teacher at all. Coming to work drunk, and fighting with students, is that what school was like before the white boards? O.O I'm guessing the time frame of this poem is circa 1970, a time when plimsolls were relevant. I really liked your stanza about the football field and gym class. The field crows and the borrowed shorts brigade. This speaker is starting to come off as a little Holden Caulfieldy. Then the non-athletes are back on the subject of geology. Nice symbolism there given the images in the first stanza. These "Others" seem to be the ones that get the best experience out of all of this. After all they still keep their memories. The last stanza is a little choppy, which would be fine, but it doesn't seem as natural as everything else so far. There are some good lines, I would just like to see something really tie into those emphatic last lines a little smoother. Over all this speaker is reminiscent of a very authentic experience, perhaps your own, and it comes off genuine. I think that is good execution. A few more drafts to get your wording down pat and this piece will be ready for the printing presses!