Language Arts
Location
We don't ask for change.
And that's fact, not fiction.
Not prepared for when they staled, strangled, and suffocated
"Language Arts"
Then stripped away "Arts,"
So we might focus on the "Language."
A change unto high school—
But we don’t ask for change.
"English" is a simple difference in diction
That means a whole lot,
Yet it has been missed
More often than not.
Snaps to this act;
Such rich writing, in fact.
English has passed its own class.
An expectation like a 12-point font
No Time Newer than Roman
And for semesters on end,
Being subject to repetition.
Alliteration.
Starting so many school years
With a similar-sounding syllabus,
Not syllables.
Hoping for homonyms
Yet we've known no existence
Of one year that has been spelled out different.
Have you deciphered my tone yet?
Semesters remain a matching set.
This continuous introduction of no new directive
And no conclusion of
Imposing perspectives;
So selective of the reading and writing,
Then selectively hearing nobody's voice.
Who writes the rules? Who makes the choice?
We all have our quarrels with classes
And masses of messes;
Our helpings of helpless complaints are
Dancing with desire
To be so much more than just a distraction.
Why don't our words—
Our complaints,
Speak loud enough to be action?
Ironic, right?
When we don't put up a fight;
The antagonist to ourselves
And that's fact, not fiction.
We are handed on a silver platter
Ethos, pathos, and logos,
Like Legos;
Building blocks to make a difference.
I can make an inference:
Things could be different.
If only you knew
How to write a sentence
Asking for change.
And that's fact, not fiction.