…With apologies to Robert Frost (and Shel Silverstein… and English teachers everywhere)

Just to be clear, in the last 6 weeks I have written several blogs…. but none of them sounded “right.”  I like to be funny or satirical or sarcastic and for whatever reason that part of my brain hasn’t been working lately.

But I digress…………. Usually when I share the mishaps of my children it somehow always starts with my daughter.   Later involving my son as he somehow winds up in the middle of it.  However tonight, it has (almost) nothing to do with my daughter.  So let me start by saying that my son despises English class.  Even this year with one of his favorite ex coaches as his teacher he hates English.  He doesn’t like to read – unless its Sports Illustrated or the Sports section of the newspaper.  He HATES writing (he may be the mailman’s son… oh wait…).  And he has absolutely no idea what a participle, conjunction or preposition might be — OK to be honest I have to agree with him on that one because diagraming sentence structure has absolutely no use what so ever in the real world.

You can imagine then how hard it is to get a passing grade.  Last week I found out he hadn’t turned in a 90 point reading/writing assignment.  Why?  Well number 1 he never finished the book and number 2 he had to pick from a list of writing projects with different point values about the book.  So we spent the entire weekend battling over this project – in an attempt to get half credit (HALF CREDIT!!) so that he might inch his grade up to passing.  Feeling happy that we had survived I went online to check and see if he had raised his grade only to find out that since the 90 point project he had also now not completed a poetry assignment for 48 points.  I’m pretty sure when he got home from school that day he was not certain he would ever see the light of day again.

He has until tomorrow to complete the poetry assignment.  So after school today for hours we have worked on 4 twelve line poems.  Him spouting ideas or sentences and me frantically searching some website called Rhymetime for words that rhyme.  And me trying to piece the ideas together in some kind of poetic verse that sort of rhymes.  I DO NOT write poems.  EVER.  You will soon see why…as I plan to share our haphazard poetry with the world.  Here it is…..

“Four Poems to save your A**”  by Dawson & Andi Baughn

Chicken Sammie

I love my chicken sammie

with buffalo sauce

and French fries on the side.

It’s way better than broccoli

even with cheese

mostly because its deep fried.

I love my chicken sammie

it’s my favorite treat

on any day of the week.

It’s way better than chocolate

even cake and pie

Mostly because I’m a chicken sammie freak.

Soccer Is…

Soccer is the bee knees,

to play it is a breeze.

I kick the ball with ease,

and make the goalie freeze.

My dribbling skills will tease

the approaching D’s

I slice the field like cheese,

And make my opponents wheeze.

When we’re on scoring sprees

We rack up lots of V’s.

Sometimes we pay fees

but soccer is still the bees knees.


Concussion, concussion

it really really sucks.

My head is always hurting

it’s just my luck.

Concussion, concussion

I really want to play.

My doctor says I can’t

Until another day.

Concussion, concussion

I can’t hit my head.

No contact sports

Is what the doctor said.

Abby the Alligator

(original verse by Dave Baughn – sung nightly to Teagan)

I’m Abby the Alligator

Gonna eat ya now or later

Eat ya with a sweet potater

Then take a ride on an escalator

Maybe even an elevator

All the way over a moon crater.

I’m Abby the Alligator

Punching numbers on my calculator

Using my GPS navigator

So I can find ya later

Might chase my self a skater

Because I’m Abby the Alligator.

And now you see why it is that I don’t EVER write poetry.  As you can see I did get out the “Falling Up” book for inspiration.  Robert Frost was  just a bit out of my reach tonight.  And most of the credit for Abby the Alligator goes to Dave.  When Teagan was five or six he used to sing that to her (it has a nice little tune to go with it) before bed every night with her stuffed alligator.  Dawson & I just had to come up with the part after “moon crater.”  Oh yeah and Dawson didn’t like my ending to “concussion concussion” which was “no more contact sports or you’ll end up brain-dead.”  He said it needed to be a little more “school friendly.”  I still don’t see the problem.

Well hopefully this story has a happy ending.  This should put him in the “passing” category — as long as he only grades the fact that there are 48 lines of “poetry”.  Hopefully he doesn’t expect them to make sense, or rhyme……