In the Classroom of Touch by Charlotte Gann
This is how you hold a person, Mr Farnham says
demonstrating. Your touch needs to be light
but firm. Felt in the skin like a weight, a squeeze.
No sudden movements, please. Still is best.
The pupil he's performing on closes her eyes,
head slightly folded, like a bird's.
She's collapsed into his woollen front. See how
my arms arc? the teacher asks his class.
Hold each other like precious cargo.
Never be too rough. Don't shove into
the person you love. Don't steal touch.
Be clear about this: we give a hug. Thanks Lydia,
back to your chair now. Giles -? The boy
stares down at his shoes, face pink. His worst subject.
Mr Farnham waits quietly, cocks his head,
smiles. C'mon Giles, he says gently. The boy
staggers down the ragged aisle between assorted
classmates. Waits while this man
opens his arms. Falls forward, hiding his face,
his sobs. The teacher enfolds him carefully,
whispers You're doing well, Giles.
......................................................................................................
This is an interesting poem in the context of our fear of inappropriate touching; especially in the context of school, where teachers hardly dare so much as to wipe a grazed knee.
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