Is French here? French, are you present?
Oh there you are, dear.
I could hardly hear
Your whispered response. 
You’ll have to change, I admit
Your attire is just a bit—
Sultry
For the classroom.
We don’t need to see
All your vowels.

Italian?
Alright, alright —
There’s no need to shout
Or wave your hands all about
Like that. I doubt
That’s very comfortable.

German?
I’m sorry young man, there’s no need to denounce.
Well, how is it pronounced?
Like what? Sir, if you’re going to vomit,
Please take to the door
I won’t be mopping your consonance off the floor.

Latin? Latin?
Where can Latin be found?
Dropped out? Oh pity,
I did love having her around.

Spanish, please
Get back to your seat,
Stop wooing those girls
With your serenade.
Your voice is like a marinade—
Rich and sweet
As a kiss.
But we are all aware of this.
So you may take your seat.

Silly English,
I see your gaze locked on the wall
Asking “mirror mirror,
Who has the fairest attention span of them all?”
Well it’s not you, my dear
For you can’t focus on a sentence
Without an acronym or cropped out word
And it’s rather absurd—
This uncured desire to set fire
To proper grammar.
Though this habit of yours
Is not yet alleviated,
I beg of you to focus
On language that is unabbreviated.

And finally role call is finished—
Class, please settle down!
Your manners have diminished.
Italian, I’ll remind you again:
Lighten up on the gesticulation
And add a bit of articulation.
German, you must be ill
Cover that guttural cough, if you will.
Spanish, I thought I told you
To take your seat.
And French, you still need to change.
English, stop texting,
Your brains will rot.
Oh what a strange
Assortment of students I’ve got.