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I bounced into your classroom a bright eyed ten-year-old Clutched on to my favourite book I loved every word Sir Walter’s Scott’s Ivanhoe wasn’t in English You scowled at me and scorned me for reading that language Said you live here now, that book’s got to go And only speak what I speak it’s the only way I know
So there it is laid it out, it wasn’t me it was you You couldn’t wear that mantle of the adult in the room You didn’t get my respect It didn’t get you anywhere at all
Weeks and months went on, things just got worse The only thing you taught me was power corrupts With that sinister smile, evil gleam in your eye You wielded out your justice like you had the right To take a ten-year-old, beat him like a carpet Then expect he should stay within your confined orbit
So there it is laid it out, it wasn’t me it was you You couldn’t wear that mantle of the adult in the room You didn’t get my respect It didn’t get you anywhere at all
The following September you were still in the room Switched to thicker meter sticks, you grinned it’s stronger wood Can you tell me now did that make you feel tough? Do you think you beat eleven-year old’s enough? Or did it just wet your beak, was it only a taste? And how much of it was driven by some inner rage? Then you followed me to high school, stood in my way, Called me out for it when it was you who blocked that lane And now when anyone asks, did I scratch more than your surface I tell them I got deep enough to make this my catharsis
So there it is laid it out, it wasn’t me it was you You couldn’t wear that mantle of the adult in the room You didn’t get my respect It didn’t get you anywhere at all
You could have been sensational; you could have been tops But you fell into your vices, you messed it all up You checked out left no doubt you deserve nothing at all
So there it is laid it out, It wasn’t me it was you You couldn’t wear that mantle of the adult in the room You didn’t get my respect It didn’t get you anywhere at all
Last edited by John Voorpostel; 02/08/2306:02 PM.
If writing ever becomes work I think I'm going to have to stop
Dynamite message and creatively written. Love the writing, here, John......................one of your very best. I wish I had come up with that ;-) Good stuff, -T
This might be my favorite song I've heard from you, John. Great message and it has the rawness that comes from childhood experiences and the anger felt in retrospect. I had a teacher like this - actually he was the principal or headmaster as we called them in Scotland - and sometime when it wouldn't be hijacking your thread I'll tell the story of how he messed with the wrong little kid and his mother lol.
As someone who has tried to wade through Walter Scott's prose in English, I think you might have been better off with a Dutch translation
One suggestion. Why not change meter stick to yardstick? It fits better with the idea of enforcing conformity to American ways.
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"Do not endeavor to be the smartest kid in a dumb class. Instead, you are better off being the dumbest kid in the smartest class, where you will be challenged and you will learn. If you aren't growing, you are dying." -Brian Austin Whitney