Farewell Poem

I sat in the orange chair attached to my desk, twirling my tan wooden number two pencil

between my fingers, impatiently waiting for my teacher, Mrs. Hope, to begin class. I was

anxiously giddy. I wanted to show Mrs. Hope and our assistant teacher, Ms.Elliot, the poem I

wrote over the weekend. I had looked forward to this Monday morning ever since last Friday

afternoon when Mrs. Hope and Ms.Elliot told us about the fifth grade Poetry competition. On

that Friday, I had went home and reread the children poems I had read when I was seven years

old. I read those brilliant kid poems again, trying to grasp inspiration and an idea on how I

wanted to form my poem. I was so excited to show the poem I wrote to my teachers that I

almost jumped out my seat as I raised my hand when Mrs. Elliott asked if anyone had some idea

on how they wanted their poem to flow.

Ms. Elliot nods my way, “yes, Dawn?” she asked.

“I’ve written my poem, already,” I say, holding up my paper in the air. I watch gleefully, as Mrs.

Elliot walks down the aisle to my desk. Mrs. Elliot asks to see my paper, I hand it to her and she

carefully reads it. I stare at her face as she reads my poem. She smiles, handing me back my paper.

“This is nice Dawn. You just have to add 3 more lines to your poem. Remember, your poem has

to be eight stanzas long.” Ms. Elliot tells me. I nod, thinking on what I could write on those three

lines. I ponder, coming up empty. I sigh, raising my hand up in the air, wanting one-on-one

assistance from my teacher. I look around the classroom, my eyes falling on the brown round

table in front of the white dry erase board. My classmates were seated in the accompanying blue

chairs of the round table, receiving group assistance from Mrs.Hope, their brown hands holding

their pencils with such vigor as they scribbled away, thoughtfully. I contemplated rather to go

over to the round table to receive group assistance as I continued to hold up my hand for

one-­on­-one assistance. I decided to stay in my seat. Two minutes later, Mrs.Elliott comes and

asks me what was the matter. I explained to her that I was stuck. She nods, pulls out a chair from

the desk adjacent to mine and sits down. Mrs.Elliott grabs my paper and reads my poem again.

“Now let's see, what do you want to say, what comes to your mind after this line when you say

It saddens me but I have to go

“I don't know,” I confess, feeling unintelligent as I try to think of what to write.

“Well, what do you want to say in this poem? What do you want to convey, what exactly were

you thinking when you wrote these five stanzas?” Ms.Elliot asks, pointing her fingers across the

lines on my paper.

“I was just thinking about leaving Palmetto and going to Bear Creek. I’m really sad to leave my

teachers and this school, but I’m really happy to go to middle school.” I admit. I pick up my

wooden number two pencil and begin writing. I knew what I wanted to say. I knew what I wanted to convey. I finally knew what I wanted to write!

“Thank you, Ms. Elliot.” I tell Ms. Elliot with a smile, writing the last five words in my last

stanza. I hand her the paper and watch as she reads my finalized poem. She nods her head then

smiles.

“This is amazing, Dawn. Let me show Mrs.Hope.” I watch as Ms.Elliot walks to Mrs. Hope.

Ms.Elliott hands Mrs. Hope my paper and I watch as Mrs. Hope face lights up and her lips form

into a wide smile.

“This is truly amazing, Dawn,” Mrs. Hope tells me.

“Come here,” she motions for me to come stand where she is. I stand and hurry to the brown

round table where Mrs. Hope sits.

“I’m going to enter your name in the Poetry competition. I need you to type this poem,

remember it, and recite it as many times as you need, you’ll have to perform it at the poetry

contest, okay?” Mrs.Hope tells me. I nod. I was too excited to speak.

For two months, I recite my farewell poem fifteen times every night before bed. On the

day of the Poetry competition Mrs. Hope instructs me to get rid of my typed paper of my poem

and recite from memory. I put my typed paper inside my backpack. I then recite my poem

without error to Mrs. Hope. Mrs.Hope claps her hands and smiles at me “Wonderful, Dawn.

Now come with me and let's walk to the Cafeteria.” I walk alongside Mrs.Hope to the cafeteria

where the Poetry Competition is being held.

The cafeteria was cold. The tables that are usually placed throughout the space of the

cafeteria were all pushed aside on the back walls. The blue chairs that usually accompany the

tables are aligned throughout the cafeteria. My classmates and peers are seated in the bluechairs, talking loudly. I walk to Mr. Wilson, the host man and ask if I was to immediately

present. He nods his head.

“Yes, you’ll be able to present in five minutes.”

In five minutes I am called to recite my poem at the podium. I walk to the podium. I begin to

recite my poem, a smile tugging on my lips at the sight of my classmates faces filled in awe as I

continued. I finish my poem, thanking the crowd for listening and walk to my seat. My peers

applause. My classmate, Maria, exclaims “I feel the same way, Dawn,” and another classmate

shouts “that was great, Dawn!” I smile, thanking them. My best friend, Alexus, tells me my

poem was wonderful, I smile wide and thank her. After thirty presenters recite their poems, it is

announced that three fifth graders will be selected to read their poem at our fifth grade

graduation. I sit in my chair, I didn't care to read my poem at graduation, just presenting my

poem at the contest was enough to satisfy the love of sharing my writing. I focused my attention

on Mr. Wilson as he named the students who would present their poems at graduation.

“Elijah Thomas

Rosalina Evereine

and Dawn Coleman”

I am taken aback when I hear Mr. Wilson call my name.

. . .

I stood on the gymnasium stage, trying to exhaust the nervousness swimming inside my stomach.

This was the day I was waiting for. I was finally presenting my farewell poem at my fifth grade

graduation! The teachers and parents who sat on the bleachers in the gymnasium looked upon me

with curiosity as I began to walk closer to the microphone stand. The fifth grade graduating class

of 2008 looked at me with anticipation as I began to open my mouth and recite my poem. “It

saddens me, but I have to go……” I begin, feeling the nervousness dissipate in my stomach, with

each word I say. I felt like I was back in first grade, reading poetry aloud to my mom in efforts to

reduce the speech impairment I possessed. I reminded myself I was reciting the poem I

composed and that thought alone filled my spirit with glee. I felt the cold air from the air

conditioning vents rush to my face as I neared my last stanza. I could feel the weight of the

unknown lift off my shoulder as I said my thanks, heard the applause from the crowd, walked off

the stage and sat down in my seat.