Poem: My Love-Hate Relationship with English Class

By: Christopher Wong

English Class

Timed writings, analyses, poems,
And so much more in store.
I really should be excited,
But I’m not completely.

Choice in class?
Ha, never heard of it.
“You do as I say,”
As my teacher always says.

I don’t want to write analyses,
It’s tough and it’s boring.
And don’t even get me started on timed writings,
Whoops, haha, too late.

“Students, ready? Commence!”
That dreaded sentence.
I pick up my pen and write,
But my brain has no light.

Five minutes have already elapsed,
And still nothing on my sheet.
I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I am SO SCREWED,
My heart is pounding at a painful beat.

I look at my prompt, then at my sheet,
Jerking my head back and forth.
It seems the swooshing had done my brain some good,
I can feel the brain juice flowing again.

“Five minutes remaining!”
Wait. What? No. Sorry. ¿Qué?
“Five minutes, you heard me.”
Oh man, time to improvise.

Alright, abandon the essay then,
I’ll focus on what I actually enjoy in class.
Poetry. Just plain, simple, stupid poetry.
I’m not that good, but I sure love it.

One more minute, I can finish this,
But please do forgive me.
With all due respect, I just wanted to express my feelings,
Please do allow me to fini



The author is currently enrolled in secondary school.

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