Monday, June 20, 2005

Motif Mondae - My Favrit Teechir

Hmm. I had some good ones. I shall write some quick poems about the ones I had in grade school.

Mrs. Brown.

In Grade Two
You had an updo

You had a mole
And glasses
And kind of an English accent.

You wore brown often.
Or do I think of you wearing brown
Because that was your name?

You were proper.
And sometimes harsh.
But you liked me.

Because I was a good speller,
And had good manners.

On the wall above the blackboard,
You had a picture of a poodle, with
the words,

"Whatever you do,
Do with your might.
'Cause things done by halves
Are never done right."

Miss Kennel/Mrs. Vasilak

Very pretty,
Glossy black hair and tanned skin
Big smile.

You got married halfway through the year
And we all had to call you by your new name.
(It was kind of confusing to an eight year old)

But you were lovely.
And you were kind.
And I was new that year,
And grateful for your friendship.

When Carmela Trombetta had a birthday party
And I was the only girl not invited,
And I cried quietly at my desk,
You came by,
And put a hand on my shoulder.

Mr. Dibrizzi.

You were mean.

Mr. Cronk.

You were kind of a hunk.
Tall, tanned, tennis-y.

You didn't really pay that much attention to us.
You wrote stuff on the board,
Said, "Get to work",
And then practiced your golf swing with the yardstick.

You always had a Halls Mentholyptus cough drop in your mouth.
You wore polo shirts and khakis.
You were cool.

Mrs. Shaw

We were the worst behaved class in the school.
Or so you said.

You were nice.
But we were bad.
And I think we wore you down.

I remember when your Dad died.
And you came back to school a few days later.
And we were subdued, unsure of what to say to you.

And you said, "I hate to say this. But you guys are behaving
So well today. And I am wondering, does someone have to DIE
EVERY DAY for you to keep being good?"

I have never forgotten this.


When you are a kid,
Teachers are mostly
Kind or mean.

And this you can deal with.

But when they are other things,
Like unpredictable,
Like neutral,
Like human,
It's hard to know where you stand.


At 10:51 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I still remember my Grade one teacher Miss Zavits. She was a younger version of Barbra Striesand. She smiled so much and took us all to her house for cookies one day. I still think of her today when I smell her perfume on other women I walk by or sit next to. When I found my sister wearing the same, she told me what it was called. Angel. And thats what Miss Zavitz was, an happy happy angel.


At 11:26 PM, Blogger mrtl said...


At 11:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I still keep in touch with one of my elementary school teachers. She was amazing. Funny to meet someone in adulthood who was kinda like your idol and try to believe that you are now, somewhat, equals!

At 7:54 AM, Blogger jennifer said...

mr. dibrizzi was so mean - remember him making the poor kids do weird things for quarters...hope karma has him eating raw onions for eternity.

and yeah, cronk was hunky- loved your description of him praticing his golf swing - a couple of the guys in our class used to say "fore" whenever he did that...

At 11:17 AM, Blogger Girl From Ipanema said...

Mr. Cronk...I can't get passed the name...In a wierd way, his name even sounds HUNKY :)

At 4:02 PM, Anonymous lawbrat said...

Those are all great. I love the poem within the poem. Mrs Brown's. Thats fantastic.


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