Monday
He sits in math, not really seeing what the teacher is writing,
Staring at a spider he thinks is hiding.
While he is staring, he doesn't notice the test
Paper he is handed with . . . a 20? That's not his best . . .
Yet it seems to be his average, a zero
while everyone else is getting straight A's.
Tuesday
He stares off in space, not knowing
Even where his eyes are going,
But he knows that it isn't what he's supposed to.
He needs to pay attention, but what should he do?
He gets another test . . . a 30.
That's better than math. He has to hurry
To get the things he needs to read.
How is he failing? He cuts his hand . . . it starts to bleed.
Wednesday
His hand is in a cast
Who knew it bled so fast?
His science teacher said that
He should have paid attention, they've moved on to human body fat
Where were his notes?
Just figments of his imagination. Totes
Of his wandering off into the unknown . . .
Thursday
He can't even get an A in art!
His teachers say he's having a "Brain fart"
They also say
He will be held back a grade
Unless he can show improvement.
Friday
He's glad it's Friday.
No more work, no more stress,
No more annoying little pests
He can be alone, and free
Or maybe just watch TV
But his parents say he can't play
Until his grades are ok.
When he finishes his make-up work,
He goes to his computer. His ark
Of freedom. He logs in and sends his poem
about a fictional boy's week.
