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In Which I Have Mixed Feelings That I No Longer Go "Back To School"

September means they're back out on the streets,School buses lumber back to school. It's fall:A season's ended. Something each child meetsIs this fate: playtime's over. I recallA gladness when this time would roll around,For school was something I always did well,Though fellow students always did confoundMe and my efforts. Often it was hell.Each kid feels singled out as somehow wrong,Not knowing all feel wrong and most just watchThe crowd for cues, and follow the most strong,Just waiting for that mistimed step or botchOf ritual to signal who is ripeTo fall. And yes, I was the falling type.