In a corner of my third grade class
a flower box carved out
on the shelf of a windowsill;
the odor of red geraniums
overwhelming.
Those plants stood proudly
in this unlikely box.
I hated the pungent smell.
Outside, the sky,
cradling white enormous clouds,
exquisite.
I hated multiplication.
On the wall, a clock
with the sign TIME WILL PASS,
WILL YOU?
We all hated that sign.
The desk,
scribbled with multiple years
of multiple hands
permanently welded
to the floor.
Outside,
the entire world.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
And our second grade teacher, Miss Colburn. They only grade school teacher I remember, because she gave me a D in math. We called her, Miss Cold Burn when she wasn't listening.
Later I got even. Scored in the 98th percentile on the graduate record exam on the quantitative part. Not so good on the verbal. Only the 45th percentile. Why I'm still learning how to write.
Ron