Ode to a Fifth Grade Teacher

The sound of Beethoven filled the air,

Sat upon the beat up couch.

The sixties were spilled upon the walls,

Dripped down, still wet with mystery.

It made me uneasy.

Your face became filled,

Words I vaguely knew,

Caiete!.. and alive,

Teased my brain.

You played pearl jam, b-52's

And the Beethoven.

It made us study harder,

And love you all the more.

We explored the universe,

Wrote writers, became poets,

Painters, and stars upon the stage.

You let us perform Hamlet.

How, I wondered, can she do this?

Who is this women who commands us,

Brings out our love for life?

She must be something new they make

Deep in the heart of the teacher factory.

You fretted;

I swore I could see the gray mounting,

Waiting for you to snap.

It made me mad at everyone else.

They never would shut up.

You went back home though,

Land of the Indians, and all that junk.

A desert I thought, how fitting.

It did seem right though,

You always did seem like to much of a desert rose.

You inspired us, taught us in more ways than one.

I think we remember you,

A dusky desert bloom, blaring Love Shack

Being our 5th grade guiding sun.