First Time in an Inner City School

I'm halfway up the staircase, paused
on the half landing, looking down
on to the playground - the very one
I just walked through. So peaceful then,
a total mayhem now. 
Thirty or forty boys, have formed a ring,
inside which another ten or twelve
do battle, no holds barred.
Already some are showing blood.

I hammer on the window glass - to
no effect. The window's locked.
I hare back down the stairs the way I came
and out through the main door.
I'm standing now atop a flight of brick 
steps, wide and curved, high above the melee.
I stay put. Survey the scene.  They
do not know me, nor I them. There
seem to be no staff around.

I'm rummaging inside my throat
to find my loudest voice.
SILENCE! I call. STAY WHERE YOU ARE!
It works. The maestrom calms.
Muddied boys rise slowly from the heap.
A hundred faces (probably) look up,
peer through the eerie silence - and see me!

Now I descend, but as I do,
a voice from somewhere, thin
but carrying, calls out:
I CAN'T HELP WONDERING...
IS HE THE RIGHT MAN FOR THE JOB?
The rest is instinct. All this time,
I've been considering 
who are the major culprits here.

Time for action now: YOU,
YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU and YOU:
INSIDE! LINE UP IN THE TOP HALL!
I sort out the injured, best I can,
then follow my chosen six upstairs.
They've done exactly what I would have wished.
They have spread out in one long line
the full length of the hall. Some Brownie points
for that! But not all good; the nearest boy
looks wild: You've only picked on us
because we're black! he says.

I truly hadn't noticed until now.
I look along the line: black, black, black, black,
black... wait: the last boy's white. As white as me.
And what of him? I ask. Why do you think
I picked on him? BECAUSE HE'S IRISH, HIM!

The cavalry at last. The deputy.
I brief him first, then leave.
The staff room and a coffee call.
................................................

Written to Hobgoblin's (Fred Rutherford's) prompt First Times at dVerse Poets ~ Poetics