On Pandemonium's Many Pressures

On Pandemonium's Many Pressures Jennifer Schneider (bio) A student of indeterminate age enters a university classroom in a state of indeterminate confusion. The room is simultaneously empty and full. The setting is a blend of both stage and rage. Degree being both a goal and a descriptive term. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crows. Whether the time is closer to dusk or dawn remains unknown. Rosters are stalled indefinitely. Faux-wooden chairs with metal legs stand still. Cool landings boil. Heat rises. Four rows of desks remain unoccupied. An unopened, fully deflated bag of ruffled potato chips (once Wise, now stale) rests on the front desk. The air unusually conspired. The clock on the wall ticks, then tocks. Shadows of students from semesters past track. Lines, both No. 2 pencil lead and Bic ballpoint ink, linger in small pockets of air between Then and Now. Here and There. Of ages when thought was celebrated and to think allowed. Forms of speech relative. Relatives only partly to blame. The printed word is no longer celebrated. The pursuit of knowledge no longer the same. A neon red sign that once read WELCOME ceases to blink. Is this a trick, the student asks, then scans the fine print on a flimsy sheet of 8.5″ x 11″ paper. Politics a stage. Cancel culture all the rage. Dobbs and Doll share more than initial consonants. Feminists and studies no longer converge. Conspiracies aside. Amidst conflicts, crises, and pressures, kaleidoscopes spiral. Discipline and disciplines denied. It's not a trick, others whisper. It's a war. Now? she asks. Yes. others say. Bodies dismantled. Rights deprived. Refusals to desist. Eyes linger, then focus on an emergency bell to the left of the bulletproof glass. Affronts on all corners. In and of texts on bookshelves and desks. Should I pull it, the girl asks the shadows that whisper and persist. No, it's a silent alarm. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Resist. End Page 365 Queries quarrel as instigators claim denial. Questions toil then coil. Ready. Set. Go. 1. Define politics. Define pandemic. Define pandemonium. Which came first? 2. Can the price of (a) discipline be quantified? 3. Do disciplines have life spans? Are life spans designed or resigned? 4. Can wing spans (right) be measured in degrees of damage? Of freedoms left? 5. Does quantity have a quality? Does pressure have a flavor? 6. Do studies have scents? Are studies defined by cents? 7. Define sense. Define (s)cents. Which came first? 8. Describe discipline's primary form of speech. 9. If a discipline whispers in winds of empty halls, does anyone hear? 10. Define silence. Do silent alarms have voices? 11. If a book falls in (or into) an empty classroom, do its words echo? 12. Define enroll. Define enrollments. Which came first? 13. Define privatization. Define privilege. Can either be quantified in degrees of latitude or longitude? 14. When a discipline is under the weather, who holds or offers an umbrella? 15. In the first sentence of the shared passage, does confusion modify the student, the room, or both? End Page 366 Jennifer Schneider Jennifer Schneider is a community college educator who lives, works, and writes in small spaces throughout Pennsylvania. She served as the 2022 Montgomery County (PA) Poet Laureate. Her most recent collections, 14 (Plus) Reasons Why (free lines press, 2023), EVENINGS WALKS: A Collection of Recollections (Ethel, 2023), and Months, Moments, & Mileage in the Rearview Mirror: 2022, (Alien Buddha Press, 2023), are now available. On (Pantry) Stock & (Kitchen) Timers, published by Querencia Press, is forthcoming. She can be reached at jschneider@ccp.edu. Copyright © 2024 Jennifer Schneider