By Alex Roden, CHS Class of 2018 —
And her gold hair flowed behind her like wings,
but not like a dove
More like a robin in spring:
always on schedule, grabbing the early worm, reminiscent of
a mother, watching over those who needed her.
And behind her glasses hid her smiling eyes,
finding amusement at the murmurs and dawdling of conversation between teenagers
Guessing and listening to their gossip and lies.
She made me realize that not all hippies were unproductive
—she was the epitome of such,
looking to make a change in the world, chanting free love
rather than letting the world go to waste and losing her Midas touch.
I met her in soccer, I may digress,
a freshman looking to escape exercise.
So when she decreed that we would run for 45 minutes around muddied CMS,
I groaned and pitied myself, oh how unwise.
But over time, it became less of a chore:
I made playlists, laughed with friends, and continued to jog by.
And she stood there, cheering us on, a true mentor,
but sophomoric me couldn’t see it at the time and I ask myself why.
When I joined her class, she remembered my name,
calling out “Alex” rather than the whole thing.
And I was surprised when she smiled each time the bell rang,
making a grueling class bounce my mood like a spring.
We were free to speak our mind on each subject
Like many teachers try, but it was enough.
And she would only assign when she knew we weren’t rekt
finishing assignments that were tough,
not loading piles upon piles of books unread. Thereon,
that queen changed my whole life,
from the golden light of Ms. Grummon
tinting my film strip of black and white.