An ode to Mrs. Sweeny

In an attempt to clean the clutter out of my literary closet, I went through a bunch of manuscripts (mostly crap) from high school and college that, for some reason, I had been saving. Because I hope someday to write something of worth, I don't want anyone to find these things when I am dead, so I threw most of them away.

However, I came across this poem that I wrote during one particularly boring English class senior year of high school. I chose to save this one, not for it's literary value as you'll see, but for the memories it brings back. Anyway, here it is. (Please note: I recently got a Mac, and for some reason the spell check on Blogger doesn't work. Since in today's world, we rely on computers for things people used to do themselves, please excuse any errors in spelling. I am only human. I cannot be held accountable.)

I once had a teacher
Who was all the time distressed
Not that she was cruel
Or like the Wicked Witch of the West.

But there is something about her
I find a bit hard to explain.
She just has a way about her
Of which I wish to complain.

Continuously contradicting herself
Morning, noon and night.
Always looking for an argument
Always looking for a fight.

I find her very humorous
For it is very funny to see
My teacher claims she knows
So much more than me.

Not to sound conceited
Or to make you think I'm smart,
But let me tell you just one thing,
She makes ignorance seem an art.

She says one thing, then the opposite
Perhaps she's trying to confuse
But I don't think that's what it is,
It's more like a type of abuse.

I think she is just unaware
Because she just does not know,
And every day I sat in class,
My anger would just grow.

Ask her a question, and she'd tell you no lies
At least that's what she thought,
But after asking the question
You'll see it was all for naught.

Her actions are of a politician,
Circling questions like a hawk,
For upon hearing the answer
You'll realize it's all just talk.

"How many times can I ask you," she once said,
"To be quiet without having to say it?"
I looked around the room and thought,
Doesn't she ever quit?

The whole class was laughing
At this not-so-teeny meany
I just have to say hello,
TO my English teacher, Mrs. Sweeny.