Back To School

Mom is third from the left.

‘T’was seventy-six years ago this year,

On Alberta’s new frontier.

My Mama started school that day,

In Millicent, not that far away.

Swedish was what she knew the best,

And not a word of all the rest.

But for this day that pint-sized girl

Would, English, give a little whirl.

Her mama coached her carefully,

On what to say at Teacher’s knee.

The words that would the class transfix?

“My nom Enes, I’m halfpastsix.”

Clutching book in tiny hand,

Mama entered ‘No-Girl’s Land’,

Then sat down in the nearest seat,

And tried to make herself discreet.

But Teacher saw her sitting there,

With press-ed dress and flaxen hair,

And called to her to please advance,

And of her schoolmates, get a glance.

My Mama went, but she was tense,

She did not want to be thought dense,

So, hoping they would not despise,

Recited what she’d memorized.

But when her class did mock with glee,

The words she’d said so carefully.

My Mom, like ice (or stuff that melts),

Wished she could be someplace else.

From then, my Mom deliberately,

Forget her Swedish publicly,

And ever after English spoke,

When e're she talked with other folk.

Before you sympathize too much,

For kids that did make fun and such,

Please note Mom didn’t cry or bawl,

And scholastically outpaced them all.

Every Month, Karen of Baking in a Tornado issues a challenge. In rhyme.
This month? Back to School
Where would I go but back to the past?

See what these other bloggers have done with the theme!

Karen of Baking In A Tornado: The Evolution of Back to School
Dawn from Spatulas On Parade: Back to School and Off the Streets
Jules of The Bergham Chronicles: Summer’s End