General Ed. 101

I'm seated and
slides pass by
line by line
to which I
and we record.

In diligence, but
never of our
own accord,
we earn points
and write, and
sometimes read

but mostly sit
in stupor and
absorb these
facts we know
or never need.

Or we sleep.
Sudoku, facebook,
or sleep. Or don't
come at all. In time
our efforts will matter,
we're told. All this
money and wasted
time...

The next slide is
overflowing; the
back row cannot
see. "W.T.F.?" I say.

...will grant us
a letter, we're told.
And enough of these
in enough hours
will nab us a job
with good pay.

And so we sit back
and scribble, and
take everything in.
Day after day.


But look:
here we are,
another day, and
there is panic
and rustling,
and sharp number 2's.

Heads are heavy
and scouring notebooks—
imbibing every
bullet, underline,
and star
like weekend booze.

Here come the
bubble sheets. "Fill in
your ovals completely,"
you say.

"I am not a number,"
we say.

But you continue anyway.

You push your papers,
your parlance, and
ambulate with a grin.

We compose a matrix
of ovals, choosing
A, B, C,
D,
none of the above,
two of the above,
A and B,
true or false.

Asking:
Why does this matter?
   A) It's required, or
   B) It does not at all, or
   C) It'll make us
   well-rounded, or
   D) This answer is wrong.


At last,
we turn it all in,
all of the above:
the culmination of
our learning, once
and for all.

I walk out of class,
the door ajar and
final done, and
never again venture
into the world of
General Ed. 101.