T3B101

The Spell of Synergy

BY ROBERT W. SERVICE

I wanted skills, and I sought them;

   I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.

Was it homework or tests—I fought them;

   I hurled my youth into a grave.

I wanted skills, and I got them— 

   Came out with a certificate last fall,— 

Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,

   And somehow the paper isn’t all.

No! There’s the classroom. (Have you seen it?)

   It’s the cussedest classroom that I know,

From the big projector screen in front of it,

   To the photos covering the walls all in a row.

Some say Mr. Bailey was tired when he made it;

   Some say it’s a fine classroom to shun;

Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it

   For no school on earth—and I’m one.

You come to get smart (damned good reason);

   You feel like a Synerd at first;

You hate it like hell for a season,

   And then you are worse than the worst.

It takes you from all other things;

   It makes you work on the weekend;

It seems it’s been since the beginning;

   It seems it will be to the end.

I’ve stood in a position of attention,

   Where everyone's eyes were on me;

Through the presentation I was blazing,

   About fun things--crows and bees,

Till the projector set my face gleaming,

   And the slides tumbled out, neck and crop;

And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,

   With the ideas o’ the world piled on top.

The performance—no sweeter was ever;

   The classroom audiences all athrill;

The singing went by in a blur,

   Through all the rooms of Churchill.

The project that never knows harness;

   The charity that serves as a call;

The philanthropy, the hoodies, Buskerfest—

   O God! how I’m stuck on it all.

The sunshine! the brightness that blinds you,

   The shadows and lights so awesome,

The poses and candids that strike you,

   The photos that bludgeon you dumb.

The lessons that are older than history,

   The outdoors where shadows slant;

The triangles, the golden ratio, the mystery,

   I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t.

There’s a land where the learning is endless,

   And the hallways all run God knows where;

There are lives that are affected by kindness,

   And the world is there, if you just care;

There are hardships that nobody reckons;

   There are those outside laying still;

There’s a thought that we must take action,

   And I want to help them—and I will.

There're awards, and they're haunting and haunting;

   It’s luring me on as of old;

Yet it isn’t that paper that I’m wanting

   So much as just finding the road.

It’s the great, big, broad world ’way up yonder,

   It’s the classrooms where chattering has lease;

It’s the potential that thrills me with wonder,

   It’s the thought that fills me with peace.