Poetry

            In 3rd grade I had a horrible, horrible, horrible teacher! She made us read and write poetry. She would look over our shoulder and tell us little "nuggets of constructive critiscm." Her name was Mrs. Robinson and we did not get along.
             I can think of countless thing I did to annoy her, and countless things she did to annoy me. I had recess before her writing class and would always try to get hurt before so I could go to the nurse instead of her classroom. One day I came into the classroom with a popsicle and she sent me to the principle. One day she gave me two peices of paper, instead of the usual one, and with that second piece of paper I wrote a note to my friend Karoline; she sent me to the principal. One day she said something that was really stupid and I laughed so hard I fell out of my seat; she sent my to the principle. One day we were talking about middle names, and in 3rd grade I thought that middle names were names you could choose for yourself. I liked so many names that I had 10 different "middle names." My teacher did not understand my logic, said I was being disruptive and rude, and sent me to the principals office. AGAIN! After all of this treachery it is clear that me and Mrs. Robinson did NOT get along. And she, being my very first poetry teacher, swayed poetry in the wrong direction.I have, however, started to like poetry again as the memories of her and her disastrous teaching techniques get farther and farther away!