Mr. Schooler Taught Us All Things Backwards Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

I remember our English teacher, Mr Schooler.
Who quickly rose through the ranks to headmaster?
He was a slick, well-dressed, snazzy kind of rooster.
He had all those teachers' speed-reading books faster.

They were told to read books backwards for one hour.
Then asked to read normally and forward some report
Not all reported improvement… I thought, 'How dour.'
He quizzed us with paperclips, a chuckle, and a snort.

Telling us, 'I bet you can't guess, class, ' what profession
When asked to list all the uses for a paperclip. Came top.
He boasted none would get it; a bowl of contention
'Hmm, I thought this was too easy, ' one boy shouted, 'Cop! '

Another yelled out, 'Astronaut! ' Another said, 'Doctor! '
I laughed. Another said banker, another butcher.
Confidently, my hand went up to this dismissive proctor.
Who didn't want my answer? So, I gave him Farmer.

He looked deflated. I just thought how patronising
That he should think, a man of such great ingenuity
Wouldn't make his list, and isn't this just stigmatising?
A profession; don't all things involve some congruity?