Two little curves attatched to a stick
Doesn't sound bad
Until you know what they form:
a letter
That's not an A.
Grades
My teacher passed them back
I was so sure a beautiful A
Would be waiting for me
But no.
And sure, there was a + next to it
So it could be almost an A
But no.
Its not.
The tears.
They were so close
from pouring out of my eyes like rivers
But no.
I was in school,
So I forced myself to hold back.
I bit my lip
All through health
And stared out the window
I couldn't think.
My 9 pages of written work
My 35-slide powerpoint
My 4 pages of notes
Should have accounted to something
But no.
Of course, not.
And I felt I couldn't tell my friends
They would just say
"That's a good grade!"
But no.
It isn't to me.
So they forced me to tell them
And I gave in.
They acted nice about it
I wished they would understand
But no.
They don't know what its like
To spend hours on a project
And walk away empty-handed.
So when I come home
I pull the grading sheet
Out of my backpack
But I can't bear to look at it
And anger boils up inside of me
And I rip the grading sheet to shreds
Crumpling the scraps into my clenched fist
And run up the stairs.
You'd think I'd have calmed down by now.
Its not really that low a grade.
But no.
I can't push it out of my mind.
The tears came again
But I held them back
Telling myself to be strong
Why am I so mad?
I've gotten worse grades than that
But I know.
It is all the effort I put into it
And the assured feeling I had
That I was going to get an A
But no.
I turn on the irish music
And let it flow through my soul
It tries to calm me
But no.
Nothing can.
My feet start moving
And soon I'm soaring through the air
Dancing
Leaping
Jumping
Flying
I had gained my wings
And flew to a land of happiness
I though I had forgot
My troubles forever
But no.
As soon as I finished the dance
I was back
To wallowing in sadness about my grade
Of course.
It always has to come to that.
Grades.
My sister comes home
And I put on a mask
Of happiness and smiles
Even though I'm screaming inside
My family can't know about this
They would pressure me
Analyze the paper I had just ripped up
To see what I did wrong
They could just forget about it
But no.
They'd have to hold it over my head
Like a looming cloud
So I have no one to pour my heart out to
No one will listen
But the pen.
So I wrote.
The tears came again
And like letting water through a dam
They pour.
They stream out of my turgid eyes
And cascade down my red tearstained cheeks
But I welcomed them
Because this time I understood them
You'd think I'd be over it by now
But no.
Of course,
Always no.
After all of my hard work
Still
It had to be
A B.
Author notes
The sad thing is that I didn't exagerate at all or make anything up.
Please Comment!!!
Comments
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luv it!
i know how u feel! for the scifi essay i got a 54/60 after putting my soul into it! i know its a good grade but my family had said it was a terrific story! what u have to remember is that it is 1 persons feelings and they dont count as much as u do. still i know how u feel.
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I really like the first section. At one point it says "I and rip the grading sheet to shreds" shouldn't it say "And I rip the"
OOOHHHH I know what this is about now...Ms.Strout judged sooo hard on those projects. And I could tell you did work hard....I mean geesh that was a lot of writing! I know exactly how you feel, I often put my heart and soul into something that I do and then don't do nearly as well as I should have. Hopefully writing this poem helped with your feelings....You really should've gotten an A just for effort. BTW no one got an A+ on that project and there were very few As...I know that won't really help....but.....that was a very unfair project. Stupid Ms. Strout!!!!
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AWWWWWWWWWW Carrie! You make me feel sad! Wow. This was a long poem. But that's okay. I know you worked soooooooooooooooo hard on that project and yes I certainly know what it feels like to work so hard and get a crappy grade. And I also know what it feels like to try to escape but it keeps coming back to haunt you. ahhh wow. Yes clearly I can relate to this. But beyond the point, Ms. Strout has a horrible point of judgement. HORRIBLE. She needs to be locked away in the crazy house of people-who-have-bad-judgement-and-when-we-say-bad-we-mean-really-bad-folks-like-we-mean-cat-barf-on-the-small-and-only-carpet-sample-of-life-that-you-get-at-Home-Depot-when-your-parents-forcibly-take-you-there-after-Church-bad. I was really mad when I heard you got that grade too because that's just plain annoying. Even more than that. It's like frustrating and aggravating and all wrapped in one. But good ranting poem it all flowed nicey nice blah blah blah whatever. That doesn't matter for this. What matters is you realize Ms. Strout is a sap and your project was great.
*KT*
x1000
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