written while teaching in a Florida public high school...because of the formatting limitations of this blog, the alternate endings are sequential rather than side by side
A young girl in high school was going nowhere.
No pride - from soiled toe to disheveled hair.
She never was happy, just filled with despair.
But her only comment was, “I don’t care.”
Each test that she failed was met with a smirk.
She rarely passed quizzes or turned in homework.
When told that her future was looking quite bare,
Her nonchalant answer was, “I don’t care.”
Her parents were worried near almost to tears.
But all of their pleas only fell on deaf ears.
They threatened boot camp to give her a scare.
Her listless response? “I don’t care.”
Tried to drop out of school when she came of age.
Went to sign the withdrawal. Couldn’t read the page.
Word spread among her peers of this ironic affair.
She simply shrugged and said, “I don’t care.”
She decided her parents were the cause of her pain
Packed up her stuff, left home, in the rain.
Some decisions are mistakes, she was acutely aware,
But the best she could muster was, “I don’t care”.
She met a young man who shared a parallel outlook.
He never studied; never cracked open a book.
He never pursued a single worthwhile endeavor,
And when pressed for his goals he’d offer, “Whatever.”
He’d dropped out years ‘ere when his parents weren’t looking.
And this disregard tendered booking after booking.
By sixteen his family ties were easy to sever.
“Will your parents bail you out?” Nope. “Whatever.”
He was stuck in neutral with four flat tires.
No skills. No ambition. Just a sheet full of priors.
His résumé was bleak. Interviews? Never.
And with each new rejection he’d spout off, “Whatever.”
Then he met someone with equal indifference.
Her apathy rivaled even his lack of good sense.
Together, a pair ne’er mistaken for clever.
“Wanna go out?” “I don’t care.” “Whatever.”
For an instant, just one, they both thought that they cared
For each other, or at least for that evening they shared.
But alas, as it was, they both fell back into form
The products of Emotion (numb) and Thought (lukewarm).
Four months later she called to tell him she was late
That he was a daddy, gave him a due date,
And that she expected his support, by any means. However.
He hung up on her just after he sneered, “Whatever.”
You’d think that her apathy was wont to persist
But here’s the kicker (it’s really a common twist).
It turns out, for years, her concern had been veiled.
It’s easier to say “I don’t care,” than, “I tried, but failed.”
She really did care. She was human after all.
And like most human beings, she had put up a wall.
A defense to being told how and what to do. A shield.
And now that hard armor was tarnished and peeled.
Her psyche was raw. She had a need to confess
To her maltreated parents that her life was a mess.
(Like they didn’t know.) But, would they take her back?
Had that train left the station? Was she tied to the track?
She put a plan into action for her as yet unborn;
Got herself sweet perfume and her hair neatly shorn.
Summoned up courage she never knew she had,
And from her parents’ driveway dialed. “I’m outside, Dad”.
Bewildered, they opened the door and invited her in.
They stared at each other warily (her mother stifling a grin).
The silence was broken by courtesy. “Can I get you water?”
“Not for me, Mom, but maybe your granddaughter.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected
But she suddenly dared to hope
That bygones would be bygones -
That they would help her cope.
For those predisposed to happy endings
Below please find the left column
The right is reserved for you pessimists,
A tad more somber and solemn.
(Optimist Ending)
She measured their reaction
By the sorrow in their eyes.
She could tell this awkward news
Came as no surprise.
The silence stabbed her hope,
Which bled upon her soul.
Had years of silly, childish fears
Taken too great a toll?
They studied her hard features
In a thoughtful, still-life fashion.
They measured her past dismissiveness
Against their own compassion.
And in the end, as they knew they would,
Were she ever to return,
They were consumed by parental love,
Which still so hotly burned.
She mistook their fiery glare
For an anger she couldn’t bare.
Her eyes began to water,
She crumbled ‘neath their stare.
“I’m sorry that I came here.
I’ll leave; get out of your hair.”
Her father stopped her,
“Whatever happened before is in the past…
Your mother and I don’t care.”
They took her back, no questions asked,
And in their forgiving love she basked.
This spark, her own maternal flame ignited.
She cared again; pride and fear unmasked.
(Pessimist Ending)The anger in her father
Welled up from deep within.
He stood up quickly, clenched his fists,
And sternly set his chin.
His wife could tell from his pulsing vein
(that she had never seen before)
His blood pressure—through the roof;
Her heart—straight through the floor.
Before he could speak a word,
He turned upon his heel.
The verdict was born of pain.
There would be no appeal.
Caught in the silent crossfire,
Her mother sighed and crossed
Her burdened heart;
husband and daughter to each other...lost.
She felt herself give in
To her daughter’s streaming eyes,
To the flame of motherhood
That flickers but never dies.
But her husband yelled from the hall,
“I can’t believe you’d dare!
You lost your chance to ask our help!
Get out! We don’t care!”
And on her own, forlorn and grieved,
She stumbled from their house.
Whatever hope had chanced to burn,
Had frigidly been doused.
Because she couldn’t care ’til too late,
Her family ties did sever.
And what happened thereafter?
No one knows. Whatever.
© Jeff Wilson, 2005
A young girl in high school was going nowhere.
No pride - from soiled toe to disheveled hair.
She never was happy, just filled with despair.
But her only comment was, “I don’t care.”
Each test that she failed was met with a smirk.
She rarely passed quizzes or turned in homework.
When told that her future was looking quite bare,
Her nonchalant answer was, “I don’t care.”
Her parents were worried near almost to tears.
But all of their pleas only fell on deaf ears.
They threatened boot camp to give her a scare.
Her listless response? “I don’t care.”
Tried to drop out of school when she came of age.
Went to sign the withdrawal. Couldn’t read the page.
Word spread among her peers of this ironic affair.
She simply shrugged and said, “I don’t care.”
She decided her parents were the cause of her pain
Packed up her stuff, left home, in the rain.
Some decisions are mistakes, she was acutely aware,
But the best she could muster was, “I don’t care”.
She met a young man who shared a parallel outlook.
He never studied; never cracked open a book.
He never pursued a single worthwhile endeavor,
And when pressed for his goals he’d offer, “Whatever.”
He’d dropped out years ‘ere when his parents weren’t looking.
And this disregard tendered booking after booking.
By sixteen his family ties were easy to sever.
“Will your parents bail you out?” Nope. “Whatever.”
He was stuck in neutral with four flat tires.
No skills. No ambition. Just a sheet full of priors.
His résumé was bleak. Interviews? Never.
And with each new rejection he’d spout off, “Whatever.”
Then he met someone with equal indifference.
Her apathy rivaled even his lack of good sense.
Together, a pair ne’er mistaken for clever.
“Wanna go out?” “I don’t care.” “Whatever.”
For an instant, just one, they both thought that they cared
For each other, or at least for that evening they shared.
But alas, as it was, they both fell back into form
The products of Emotion (numb) and Thought (lukewarm).
Four months later she called to tell him she was late
That he was a daddy, gave him a due date,
And that she expected his support, by any means. However.
He hung up on her just after he sneered, “Whatever.”
You’d think that her apathy was wont to persist
But here’s the kicker (it’s really a common twist).
It turns out, for years, her concern had been veiled.
It’s easier to say “I don’t care,” than, “I tried, but failed.”
She really did care. She was human after all.
And like most human beings, she had put up a wall.
A defense to being told how and what to do. A shield.
And now that hard armor was tarnished and peeled.
Her psyche was raw. She had a need to confess
To her maltreated parents that her life was a mess.
(Like they didn’t know.) But, would they take her back?
Had that train left the station? Was she tied to the track?
She put a plan into action for her as yet unborn;
Got herself sweet perfume and her hair neatly shorn.
Summoned up courage she never knew she had,
And from her parents’ driveway dialed. “I’m outside, Dad”.
Bewildered, they opened the door and invited her in.
They stared at each other warily (her mother stifling a grin).
The silence was broken by courtesy. “Can I get you water?”
“Not for me, Mom, but maybe your granddaughter.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected
But she suddenly dared to hope
That bygones would be bygones -
That they would help her cope.
For those predisposed to happy endings
Below please find the left column
The right is reserved for you pessimists,
A tad more somber and solemn.
(Optimist Ending)
She measured their reaction
By the sorrow in their eyes.
She could tell this awkward news
Came as no surprise.
The silence stabbed her hope,
Which bled upon her soul.
Had years of silly, childish fears
Taken too great a toll?
They studied her hard features
In a thoughtful, still-life fashion.
They measured her past dismissiveness
Against their own compassion.
And in the end, as they knew they would,
Were she ever to return,
They were consumed by parental love,
Which still so hotly burned.
She mistook their fiery glare
For an anger she couldn’t bare.
Her eyes began to water,
She crumbled ‘neath their stare.
“I’m sorry that I came here.
I’ll leave; get out of your hair.”
Her father stopped her,
“Whatever happened before is in the past…
Your mother and I don’t care.”
They took her back, no questions asked,
And in their forgiving love she basked.
This spark, her own maternal flame ignited.
She cared again; pride and fear unmasked.
(Pessimist Ending)The anger in her father
Welled up from deep within.
He stood up quickly, clenched his fists,
And sternly set his chin.
His wife could tell from his pulsing vein
(that she had never seen before)
His blood pressure—through the roof;
Her heart—straight through the floor.
Before he could speak a word,
He turned upon his heel.
The verdict was born of pain.
There would be no appeal.
Caught in the silent crossfire,
Her mother sighed and crossed
Her burdened heart;
husband and daughter to each other...lost.
She felt herself give in
To her daughter’s streaming eyes,
To the flame of motherhood
That flickers but never dies.
But her husband yelled from the hall,
“I can’t believe you’d dare!
You lost your chance to ask our help!
Get out! We don’t care!”
And on her own, forlorn and grieved,
She stumbled from their house.
Whatever hope had chanced to burn,
Had frigidly been doused.
Because she couldn’t care ’til too late,
Her family ties did sever.
And what happened thereafter?
No one knows. Whatever.
© Jeff Wilson, 2005
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