Witch from Yugoslavia

Dark hair, wrinkled skin
Old woman full of gin
Be mean to students, beat them senseless
Keep them inside during recess
Erasers flying, words that flail
How can you wonder why we failed
You told us that we were disgusting
And taught us how to be mistrusting
As you scoffed and raised your voice
You left your students with no choice
Broken spirits joined together
Combined courage to break your tether
And put you on that livestock plane
To send you back from whence you came

This is a poem I wrote for creative writing class today before the bell rang. It’s about my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Austin. Yes, she truly was from Yugoslavia, and she did in fact throw erasers and keep us inside during recess. She was especially cruel to me for unknown reasons. Guess I was the lucky one. She contributed greatly to my sudden loss of confidence as a child. I hope she’s proud.

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