Standing on One Foot
One day as I was standing on one foot
In the back corner of the room
To get punished for
Causing commotion in the class,
The superintendent knocked on the door,
Stuck his bald head inside
And called my name out loud.
Students turned their heads wondering
What other rules had I violated this time.
The teacher relinquished my sentence knowing
A harsher retribution was to come about.
I schlepped to the principal’s office
Not having a clue what was going on,
To me it was always a bad omen
When authorities were involved.
Walked in the office packed with
Teachers, staff and parents sitting around
Stunned to see my father in the middle
Chatting with the principal of mine.
The room suddenly plunged into silence
Everyone gazed upon me like exotic animal.
Nervously I stared at my shoes and listened
To the teachers’ dismay with my grades
And my lack of respect for the rules
Reported to my father by the principal.
As he went through a long list of
Misconducts in class and in the yard,
Referred to low grades in math,
Reading, history and art,
My father nodded in agreement,
Approved every charge and added
“I fully support your reprimands
To teach this difficult child of mine.”
He then pointed his index finger
At his son and announced,
“Everyone! Please look at his attire,
His dirty long nails, messed up hair, filthy shoes.
Is this how a decent pupil goes to school?
You don’t believe Sir how many times
His mother and I tell him right from wrong.
We simply cannot control him at home anymore.
You have my blessing to do what it takes
To discipline this rowdy son of mine.”
As I was chewing my nails, head dropped down
Wondered how guilty I really was.
My sense of humor, the funny observations
The sharp comments I made in class
The roots of all my problems
I learned from my father and no one else.
In all family gatherings I remembered
He behaved that way and
Cheered my antics too every times.
My hyperactivity, lack of patience
And the despise I had for order and laws
I inherited from my mother’s side
As a matter of fact my grandpa
Was an anarchist for crying out loud.
And now that my parents’ traits
Bestowed upon me, engrained in my genes
Went haywire and I was out of control,
Fingers were pointed at me to take all the blame
As if I was an alien born out of this world.
At exact moment of weakness,
The lowest point in my life
My own flesh and blood, my father
Disowned me in public, was not on my side.