For eight long weeks he must subsist
His trunk jam-packed with nothing missed
Ticked off against the “Boarder’s List “
Arrival day was cold with rain
His mother dragged him there by train
His pleas to leave were all in vain
He and mother said their goodbyes
He turned his head to hide his eyes
Suppressing all his held- back cries
Now mother gone and left alone
He must adjust to his new home
Familiarise with things unknown
Wrenched from all he held so dear
A world unfamiliar and austere
Strict rules to which he must adhere
Then ushered to his dormitory
Bed rows in bleak uniformity
In callous cold conformity
His was the third and lower bunk
Beside his yet unopened trunk
He’d live like a Franciscan monk
Unzipping now his two small bags
Containing clothes with red name tags
And all his favourite boyhood mags
Slowly dragged the days at first
Sometimes he felt his heart would burst
Of his brief days these were the worst
He counted off each passing day
So many more compelled to stay
Until the Summer Holiday
At last the term had reached its span
And mother had achieved her plan
Her son had now become a man!
-
Author:
Classicmister (
Offline) - Published: March 11th, 2023 11:25
- Comment from author about the poem: There a mixed views about sending boys away to boarding school. Some victims say it was a cruel decision by their parents which scarred them for life whilst others enjoyed and benefitted from the experience.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments2
Bought back vivid memories - of the literature available to me as a boy (just before war stories became the go).
The closest I ever got to one and I have no idea how I would have fared (possibly in retrospect, not well).
Dave - Thanks for your comment ... Must admit that the poem was somewhat autobiographical as I was sent away to boarding school. Because my dad had died in WW2 my mother thought I needed some male discipline - I reckon she was right and I am one who benefitted from the experience. Taught me to be independent and tolerate people whom I did not necessarily like! Also I loved living in the wonderful Derbyshire Peak District. However there were some boys who found it a very unhappy/distressing experience especially if they were homesick and bullied.
A quick flick over a comprehensive response, C --
If by male discipline you mean a way to organise your life, you may be right. I gained some lessons in the Air Cadets as a youth.
Not sure at this stage in my life (or ever) I tolerate people I don't like.....
The Derbyshire Peak District is, as you say, wonderful. Many moons (and then some) ago I did a two week guided cycling tour there. One of the fondest of my memories.
Quite touching to one like me who never experienced boarding school but feared i would not enjoy it. I had one experience of being sent off to Scout Camp at age 11 and at first, experiencing being bullied by a guy about a year older than me, was thoroughly miserable. After a couple of days and the offer that I could be sent home by train, from the kindly and sensitive Scoutmaster, I was moved to another tent and, in a more friendly environment, survived the week. If poetry is supposed to generate an emotional response in the reader then this poem is certainly a success with me.
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