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| Detail from “The School of Athens” a fresco by Raphael (1483 – 1520) [Click image to call up all published instalments] |
Bob Boldt recently shared a painting of his that took me back to the 5th grade at McKinley Elementary in Moline, Illinois.
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| “Crazy Rhythm,” by Bob Boldt, 2003 |
Bob’s painting reminded me of my struggles learning to write cursive that year. Unlike with my earlier teachers, I always felt a little off when dealing with my 5th grade teacher.
Raised as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I remember the awkward conversation at the beginning of every school year about respectfully not participating in the Pledge of Allegiance, birthday celebrations, and holiday projects. Most of my previous teachers would allow me to stand silently and respectfully during the pledge, work on alternative projects, or go to the library while the class engaged in such activities. But it seemed like the 5th grade teacher wasn’t comfortable with my requests.
I was allowed to stand still during the pledge, but for those other times where I had requested not to participate, my desk was slid out into the hall where I sat and waited for the other students to finish, as if I had done something wrong and was being punished.
This treatment also drifted into other areas of the class: when I asked a question, I was usually told to go back and reread the text to find the answer; my creative efforts seemed unwelcome rather than encouraged; and when it came to learning cursive—well, I will leave it to the poem below to illustrate an incident.
Fortunately, 5th grade passed quickly and soon I could enjoy more positive learning experiences.
Thank you, Bob, for taking me back to re-examine these memories all these years later. I hold no malice toward my 5th grade teacher, because I can now understand how different ways of living can take a while to adjust to.
Cursive
She walked around the desks,
alternately praising, correcting,
adjusting student hands
as they looped their words
across the page,
learning a second alphabet
that flows together,
a slurred speech
somehow musical
until her steps
down the creaking
wood-strip floor
approached my
south-leaning seat
and stopped.
“You’ll have to learn
on your own.
I don’t do lefty.”
This treatment also drifted into other areas of the class: when I asked a question, I was usually told to go back and reread the text to find the answer; my creative efforts seemed unwelcome rather than encouraged; and when it came to learning cursive—well, I will leave it to the poem below to illustrate an incident.
Fortunately, 5th grade passed quickly and soon I could enjoy more positive learning experiences.
Thank you, Bob, for taking me back to re-examine these memories all these years later. I hold no malice toward my 5th grade teacher, because I can now understand how different ways of living can take a while to adjust to.
Cursive
She walked around the desks,
alternately praising, correcting,
adjusting student hands
as they looped their words
across the page,
learning a second alphabet
that flows together,
a slurred speech
somehow musical
until her steps
down the creaking
wood-strip floor
approached my
south-leaning seat
and stopped.
“You’ll have to learn
on your own.
I don’t do lefty.”
| Copyright © 2023 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. |
Wow.
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