By Shem Onderi
Some chose this calling,
others were driven here by circumstance,
some were summoned by the government’s decree—
a profession splendid, yet uncertain.
The staffroom is a mosaic of paths,
a patchwork of dissimilar journeys.
Some slip away to other trades,
doors opened by the very staffroom
they once belonged to.
Here, colleagues with diverse combinations
and differing schools of thought
sit side by side,
tackling the same assignments,
shaping futures together.
In this room, couples have met,
first families formed,
second families begun,
and others quietly broken.
The red pen lies constant on every desk.
Drawers breathe the scent of chalk,
walls wear charts like memory,
a clock ticks sternly—
reminding all of the next lesson.
These walls have kept confidences,
heard laughter, confessions, disputes.
They have echoed the cries of discipline,
the swish of canes meant
to mould the next crop of teachers.
The staffroom—
keeper of secrets,
witness to lives,
cradle of careers.