When you leave school at 18, 

You look back thinking the years of brain control are over, 

You look the teachers in the eye thinking, 

“You’ll  never hurt me again” 

And this seems well and justified. 
But then if you have children 

The teacher invades your home again

Algorithms, equations, vocab, and art

Bloody art that spills over a long weekend 

Giving a stench you can’t quite shake off. 

There’s another brick in the wall. 

After all.