A bad teacher? I can do that.
Did I mention that she called me a brat?
Eleven years old and very polite,
But there I was: a deer in headlights.
Essays and homework would "disappear"
So I became a terror; I had no fear.
My essay is gone? Well, so is your chair.
My homework went missing? Who cut your hair?
She soon learned I'd fight, but didn't take heed
And before long my mother noticed my need.
Thank goodness for principals with good sense,
Because he believed that I was filled with innocence.
Okay, so he was wrong, but in this case he was right,
Because my mother packed my homework every night.
Before long the teacher became, oh, so sweet,
But I kept my distance (about five feet).
She wanted a battle, but she got a war.
Who won? Well, why don't I check the score?
I moved on to another teacher and grade,
And the last day of school? It was the last she got paid.
YOU ARE READING
Peeking Through the Window
PoetryA book filled with poetry I've written and am writing. I'm considering trying to get published, but I don't think I'm really good enough. Please feel free, by the way, to leave comments. I enjoy knowing what people think, as long as they are not r...
