At first it was slates
with squeaky slate pencils
and tied-on rags
to wipe them clean
But the rags weren’t clean
Spat on too often
not often washed
they smelt vile

Pencils, lead pencils
came next
neatly whittled flat space
for your name
You turned the handle
on the big metal sharpener
importantly, out the front

Finally advanced to ink
Nibs and inkwells
The wells were sludgy
at the bottom
and at the top
sometimes inserted
by the class clown
the ends of some girl’s plait

If you had been extra good
you got to be the ink monitor
for the week

The majestic progress
to fountain pen
not a minute too soon.