Try Learning This

Maybe that was it. Maybe I wanted to prove to Mr Walsh, my teacher, I was better at something than the others in the class. Just vanity. My pride pushing it’s way forward. I had felt that I could do something special. I took my handwritten copy, which had taken my lunch break and a little more to write out, of the poem home, and learnt it. I applied myself to it. If someone could learn this in a week, then I knew I wanted to do better. I tried to get it all straight in my head. Line, by line. I walked around the house and talked my way around the yard, several times. Actually, dozens and dozens of times. In fact, if I worked it out, at least five dozen times. At least. Sixty lines, repeated first line one, then line one and two. Then line one, two and three (you get the idea). I kept adding in a line to what I had learnt until I had the whole poem. Then I practiced the entire poem several times. Over and over. It was probably easy, compared to a script or play, because it was a monologue. I didn’t have to learn where any breaks or interruptions would come. I spent the entire afternoon and most of the evening until I had managed it.

Next morning, I arrived at school. Bursting. I had practiced the poem at least three times since getting up. I recall my mother had even told me to stop reading it at the breakfast table. Reading at the table was always forbidden. It was considered extremely bad manners. Not just from our English mother. It was just socially rude. Yet, today, one thing I have often enjoyed, particularly when by myself eating a meal, is reading a good book as I enjoy the meal. It’s better than all the watching television while you eat, as we seem to do more and more in today’s world. I have actually met people, who have never sat at the table, as a family and eaten dinner or held a conversation. Some people use the excuse the children need to eat earlier, or the parent is working till too late for the meal. Other times it is the fact that the children are too distracting(?). The parents want to talk. So the children are sat before the television while they eat. I have even seen parents recently put an ipad in the hands of their young child (and I mean almost a baby) while they had a quick meal when out. No. That has to be a parenting fail. 

However, I was ready and had now arrived at school. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait. I was so pleased. I was so keen. It was a show and tell in the class. I was the first to raise my hand. My gesture was observed and approval was given. I got up to present to the class. Even Mr Walsh was dubious when I said I was going to recite the poem we had only heard for the first time yesterday. I opened my mouth to begin…….

(Continued tomorrow)