By Lois Linkens.

You gaze upon the rows of cold and empty seats,
Have a quick browse of all the friends you’re about to meet.
There’s the girl sitting at the front, with her books and pens all ready.
There’s the boy towards the back – who looks a bit unsteady.
The girl with bright pink hair and a piercing in her cheek;
The boy who looks like he hasn’t slept since halfway through last week.
The guy in middle, who is reading Game of Thrones;
The group of people behind him, all glued to their phones.
You hurry to your seat, as the teacher dims the lights.
The PowerPoint flashes up, the microphone crackles into life.
“Welcome,” says the lecturer, with an over-enthusiastic grin.
Brandishing their lazer pointer, “okay, let’s begin.”
Those last three words were everything you heard.
Of the other two whole hours, your memory is blurred.
There was something about someone who did something somewhere…
That person in front of you had such greasy hair…
You remember that a fly had taken a little trip
Along the front desk, and across the carpet.
Up to the window, where it explored the frosted glass –
Fly Studies. Now that’s a subject you could pass.
You remember the coughing, the sniffing and the sneezing;
The shapes in the clouds were really very pleasing.
You look back at your notes, but all that you can find
Is a drawing of a cat – which apparently you’ve proudly signed.
Oh, it’s useless, you think, as you crawl home to bed,
I may as well just spend two hours watching Netflix instead.
I’ll do better tomorrow, I’ll listen, I’ll take notes
I’ll work hard and I’ll study and I’ll write down all those quotes!
No more distractions, daydreams or drawing
Who ever said that lectures were meant to be boring?
I’m changing my attitude, starting from here,
I may as well, as it’s costing me nine grand every year.