Jazz Class

My students
Sit listening to jazz
As they write and work

First,
They resist.
Crying out,

Why are you torturing us?
How can that be music?
Where are the words?
Please put it on something new!

I begin to notice
The year goes on,
Student's feet tapping
Pencils scratching,
Heads bobbing
In time with Trombone Shorty.

Who's this?
What's this song called?
Play it again!

I can't the song has
Moved on. Now
Here is another one, older
Guy named Davis.

They don't like
Him as much,
I don't care though.
All I hope is
Miles' trumpet
Blows away
Those nonsense lyrics
They think are music.