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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Why was my whole special school life, An interpretation of nature and school? A philosophical contemplation and analysis, A freeway inquiry into the education tool. Because the god concept was lain out, On the household table, delicately spread, I was sharp at social phenomenon, Even as a primary child was not off my head. When I journeyed down the corridors, Slowly, because of my disability, I was more often than not on my own, ‘Cos the others would show off their mobility. So I thought about the politics, Of the special school and our integration right, Our need of ramps and disabled toilets, The importance of everybody’s mindset height. I classed the whole organisational structure as wrong, For using the carers as playtime supervisors, ‘Cos in my old nursery school the teachers contravened, In any tit-for-tat playground misdemeanours. The teachers knew us in the classroom, So adjudicated fairly and with respect, Were able to administer justice, Wherever there was a point of regret. The carers were just not on my level, And you had to do what they said, Which overshadowed my whole experience, Which made me much see red. It was believed that the carers had a light on, Because they scribed for us in maths, But your profession level sets your reception, Of high-flyers’ stares and laughs. I mean, I didn’t ever laugh at them, For their low rank and position, But that just meant they never put me with, My parents speech and religion. But I considered myself determined philosophically, Not in the free-will line of thought camp, And just needed a man, board or committee, To rejuvenate myself and amp. So I often spoke with the school doctor, The boss of the cliques and staff, But the other pupils resented it, Laughing at my physical prospects, chaff. When your life does not go right, Insist, if you can, on calling the shots, Make appointments with the gods, And beam with importance watts.
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