Teacher

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"The following poem is modeled after my first grade teacher, way back in 1969, and some of the experiences I had with her. She was not such a pleasant woman but I did learn in later years that she had a great many personal tragedies and problems of her own. This is dedicated to her, to Mrs. Craig, who I hope is enjoying a full and rich life."


We sat with rapt attention
As she paced across the room
She looked, to me, more like a witch
A witch without her broom

We first grade girls were frightened
The boys were just as scared
When she loudly yelled, "No talking "
Of course, no one had dared

The chalk board gave us shivers
As she quickly wrote and drew
Then in a wink, she turned and left
Not explaining what to do

We sat there, still and all confused
Not knowing what came next
A few of us began to cry
We were grade one nervous wrecks

Just when we thought our lives would end
She blew back in and said,
"Now class, I want neat printing"
We were just as good as dead

We copied down the words we saw
As neat as we could be
Our little hands they trembled
As we wrote out A B C

The minutes slowly ticked on by
The air was thick and stale
We waited for the recess bell
To spring us from this jail

One girl who sat close by the door
Couldn't make it to go pee
Teacher grabbed her by the hair
And dragged her out with glee

I swore I heard her cackle
When she came back in the room
And that is when I saw it
Our teacher had a broom!

Or was it only just a mop
To clean up that girl's mess
I swore right then, a witch she was
To this, I must confess

How could the school allow it
To hire such a crone
Could they not see what we could see
She was clearly made of stone

Just when we felt all hope was lost
When all was dark and grave
In walked our music teacher
And each one of us were saved

We formed and a line in front of her
She looked so warm and sweet
With great relief we followed her
We thought we had it beat

But music class, it doesn't last
And soon our time was done
Our little legs marched back to class
There was no more time for fun

When we returned, we noticed
That teacher was all smiles
The room was filled with happiness
That seemed to stretch a thousand miles

How could this be, how could she change
Right before our eyes
The witch was now a princess
A princess in disguise

Could it have been that little break
She got when music came
A break that teacher needed
To return her back to sane?

In later years, I came to know
That sometimes we all need
A break from all the chaos
A chance to just take heed

I also learned that sometimes when
We are sure of nature's call
That underneath, what really is
A person, after all

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drksideofthemoondrksideofthemoonabout 18 years ago
Different

Reminded me of my second grade teacher, Miss Archer. I think she was a storm trooper prior to teaching....