Analysis of The Son is in Secondary School by Affran Sa’at

My badge has a Latin motto
Hope for the future
The future is hope
Or something

At times black crows try to interrupt
When we sing the National Anthem

It is difficult to maintain
The whiteness of my shoes

Especially on Wednesdays I must admit there is something quite special
About the bare thighs of hardworking scouts

The Malay chauffeurs
Who wait for my schoolmates
Sit on the car park kerb
Telling jokes to one another
Seven to the power of five is unreasonable

On Chinese New Year Mrs Lee dressed up
In a sarong kebaya
And sang Bengawan Solo

The capital of Singapore is Singapore

My best friend did a heroic thing once
Shaded all A’s
For his Chinese Language Multiple-choice paper

In our annual yearbook
There is a photograph of me
Pushing a wheelchair and smiling
They caught me
At the exact moment
When my eyes were actually closed

Affran Sa'at has chosen to write this poem in the form of a free verse, structuring it like daily conversation, as if he is trying to engage the reader in casual conversation, relating events about his school, rather than in a poetic form. The absence of alliterations show that making this poem musical is not the top priority in composing this poem. There were instances where imagery was used. For instance, "black crows" and "whiteness of my shoes". Even though these are not very strong "word pictures", they enable the reader to visualise what the poet is talking about.


Response to threads:
1. The poet misses his secondary school, as he remembers many significant details of it, regardless of whether it happened once or regularly. Many of the things he remember are those of happy thoughts, that he did not leave this school having a grudge with it. He seems to want to go back to secondary school life if he had the chance, to relive his past memories.

2.
Cross atop a building
Angel at the front gate standing
Spiritually filled it stood
A guardian of what is good

Field with memories never forgotten till time's end
A bed of barren, desert land
Hours of tackling, scoring, passing
Disregarding the need for studying or spelling

Classrooms filled with shaky fans
Whiteboard stained with the mark of our hands
A little souvenir for the classes below
A tinted glass window from the shaky side panel

Friends who moved about and stayed
Memories that would never fade
Quarrels, fights, arguments and brawls
Nevertheless a family, one for all

Our science teacher was a young bloke
loved to make all kinds of jokes
English teacher wasn't the same
A big NO to fun and games

Many things to say
Many stories to share
But at the end of the day
It is how you live life, over there