Ms Bailey's Third Grade Class

Ms. Bailey

She stepped out of her fire-engine red car

wearing her college maroon T-shirt

and a pink painters cap.

Her hair stuck out like straw.

Soon, in one hand, snaked the garden hose

In the other, with a metal forked tongue

she scolded the weeds.

But when a tiny little bunny

scurried out of the flowers

she yelled ‘rat’ in her outdoor voice

and the bunny quickly turned

cottontail and tucked back into the garden.

Then we sat on the sidewalk and ate ice cream.

What will she tell her third-graders

about how she spent her summer vacation?

Third grade

I went to third grade fifty years ago.

I went again to third grade - again –

yesterday.

The faces seemed the same,

but none that I could remember.

I recall a boy in a bright orange shirt

in the middle of the room.

A girl, her hair might have been brown,

a pencil poised to make a poem.

If you give me their names with the faces,

I might see if one day they do anything big.

But already they are capable

of little kindnesses

and their curiosity might take them

where they want to go.