Ode to Zoom by Owen Larson

Oh, fairness be thine, Zoom, The little blue icon In the corner of my little machine, The solution to public safety And pursuance of education.

The excuse For an extra hour of sleep, For a lack of attendance, For a lack of preparedness, That you provide.

You let me hide my face When I feel ugly, Hiding behind a curtain Of an avatar That distills my character Into a single image.

Staring at my screen, I click the link, Waiting for my teacher To click admit - A mutual exchange Transmitting me Into a two-dimensional classroom.

Sudden intervals Of dogs barking, Babies wailing, And chairs squeaking Form a formal setting Stripped of professionalism: A glimpse at true humanity.

Awkward silence echos loud, Amplified by the keyboard strokes Of a poorly connected teacher; Words breaking, Derailing the lecture, And in the snap of a finger, Authority dissipates.

Breakout rooms start, The discussion ends. One leader is all it takes, Leading a masked army Of newly awkward scholars.

Oh, fair Zoom, You morph our class Into a mosaic of confined life, Carving my room Into a little rectangle; My own little plot That speaks with grass-green borders For flowers of discussion to grow.

Yet class starts In 5 minutes, And still I remain in bed.

—Owen Larson ’22