School blows. There really is no getting around it. We could have a formal debate, with you arguing that school is important for laying the foundation for our future, and me arguing that it blows, and I would wipe the floor with you. As a sophomore in high school, I take the normal classes, math, history, Spanish, physics, and English. English is just the worst, because we always do these stupid writing exercises, which we’ll never use and are just boring and frustrating. Today it was limericks. Ms. Bronnegan explained, the rhyme scheme and format of a limerick, and we were all zoning out because we didn’t really care, and then suddenly she was telling us we had 45 minutes to write a few, and then we would each present one to the class. Now I don’t like writing poetry, and I don’t like speaking in front of a lot of people, so this plan really did not appeal to me at all. Nevertheless, I pulled out a pencil and started racking my brains for something to write about.
There once was a fellow from Spain
Nah, too cliché. I did not want to start my limerick with “There once was a.”
Glancing around me, I noticed that all the other kids were working furiously, their pencils zooming about the paper without pause. Sighing, I looked back to my paper, which seemed to be mocking me with its one, crossed-out line of what was an attempt at poetry. No, I would not allow myself to stress about this. Just write a limerick, that’s all.
In a village not far from Bombay
An elephant went to a play
“A Theatrical Ride!”
The elephant cried
“Best performance that I’ve seen all day!”
Eh, it would have to do. I checked the clock. 40 minutes left. Nothing to do, nothing to do… I put my head down on my desk. It was so warm, and suddenly I was so sleepy. I tried to fight it, but soon I was dozing off.
I began the dream. The recurring dream that I could never seem to get rid of, that forced me to remember a day that I often push out of my mind. I am in seventh grade, in the zoo with my father and sister, Ariel. She wanted to see the Rhinos, so we started on our way trying to find them…
“Danny!” Ms. Bronnegan was standing over my desk, and she did not look happy. “This isn’t nap time!”
“I finished my poem Ms. Bronnegan.”
“Well write another one. We have thirty minutes left in class, and I want you to work.”
Now I was getting annoyed. I had written enough poetry for one day, and I just wanted to go home and relax. Sighing, I picked up my pencil and started writing.
After 20 long silent minutes, Ms. Bronnegan told us we were to start presenting. My hand shot up before anyone else’s, and the pleasantly surprised English teacher called me to the front of the room.
I pulled out my paper with my most recent poem on it, and began to read it loud and clear.