When I was in the sixth grade, I found out I was going to have the teacher who was considered the meanest in the school. I was terrified to enter his class the first day. I carried fear, and why-me-anger in my pocket!
The first thing I noticed was he wore a tie, had a southern accent, and was carving something from a bar of soap. I giggled inside and picked up some happiness from him and put it into my pocket too.
Within days I realized I had a genius of creativity for a teacher. He was strict but fair, rules could not be broken, but you could exchange punishment or a bad grade if you could recite a hundred line poem by the end of each week. I was going to be saved from many Ds!! I recited by heart a poem a week!
When I read this weeks prompt at Poetry Thursday I flashed back:
I am 12…a crumbled piece of paper is in my pocket, I take it out every chance I have…First thing the morning on the bus, at lunch, in between classes, on the toilet, in the hallway, walking down the lane, taped above the kitchen sink as I dried the dishes, I am reciting the poem in my pocket, trying my darn-est to improve my grades through memorizing a hundred lines of poetry a week.
Mr. Weaver was a living poem, he was a favorite teacher of mine! My grades improved and I stuffed many poems of confidence in my pocket, because of his method of teaching I started to believe in myself, and carried a happy go lucky bundle on my shoulder!
photo: Vintage cutout from my collection of Tongue in Cheek antiques.
Leave a Reply