Thursday, October 11th, 2012 | education
With apology to Sir J C Squire, I reworked his poem, There Was an Indian, as follows:
There Was a Teacher
There was a teacher, who had known no change,
Who taught content within her comfort reach
Using books. She heard a sudden strange
Beep-clicking noise: looked up; and gasped for speech.
For in her class, where she had ruled before,
Appeared on desks, by magic, small machines
With blinking lights, and knowledge in their stores
And nimble thumbs that follow prompts on tiny screens.
And she, in fear, this teacher all alone,
Her hands forgotten chalk and board,
Her lips gone pale, a heart gone cold as stone,
And stared, and saw, and did not understand,
A cell phone reigning now as lord,
Clasped firmly in each learner’s hand.
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