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Adrian Buckner

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Mr Jenner, Latin Master

We were the fag end to his career, not
the fond part of his reminiscence -

the Comprehensive intake to a school still
playing rugby, still all Catholic boys, still

denoting its ‘houses’ - named for six bishops
by diagonal shades on the tie.

And Latin was still compulsory
and he was compelled to teach us.

We mocked him for his bicycle, the inordinate
sharpness and longevity of his pencils

and every piece of close quarter husbandry
that he didn’t care to hide.

We thought him humourless, but his one joke was on us -
If you’re wondering what the smell is, it’s fresh air -

and while we, thinking ourselves satirical, beat the desks
and fell on the floor, he turned away

to make some note, rub down the board or mark
a correction.  He did us every time.

Next term we will finish with this made up stuff
and look at some real Latin; Catullus and a little Pliny.

A vain promise from the Empire that was
his mind to the Barbarians at the gates.

Page(s) 12

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