The lad is back, I'm glad to
To write his poems another day;
But "How?" you ask, "how could this be?"
"He didn't like the poetry."
"He almost failed the first time through."
It's true, but now I'm telling you
He's back and now the table's turned,
For by his teacher he gets burned.
Last year as you just might
'Twas Jeremy began it all;
A horrid nickname, some mistakes,
Not all his fault, but them's the breaks!
His teacher suffered mightily,
Decided to grade bitingly,
And so he finished off the class
With just D minus, barely pass.
But now he's back, and so's the
This somewhat scary double feature,
On sports the boy is now obsessing,
Athletic words his tongue caressing,
And though his teacher tries support
Every time she views a sport,
It seems a jinx her fate to be
As Jeremy fails miserably.
At hoops he cannot make a
The hockey team the farm has bought;
He's not on target at archery,
And softball? In last place is he;
His teacher ruins every chance,
He even may consider dance!
With all the loses it's good that he
At least enjoys his poetry!
From the book:
Mrs. Stegowitz decided to attend a soccer game, Jeremy made sure to
put her in the front row.
"Best seats in the house," he promised her. "You'll see everything."
But what he really meant was that he would see her. That way she couldn't startle him like at the football game. She wasn't wearing her red coat this time, but she would still be easy to keep an eye on because of her hat. It was a puffy round white cap, decorated with large black dots.
Their opponents were one of the best teams in the league, but the Falcons were holding their own in a hard-fought battle. The score was tied at 2, and My-Choice Puppy Chow was going all out to break the deadlock. The play swung by in front of the bleachers where the spectators sat cheering. All ten Falcon forwards charged after the ball, and the crowd rose to its feet in excitement.
A gust of wind picked Mrs. Stegowitz's hat up off her head. It sailed out onto the field, and came down in the thick of play. And suddenly there were two round white objects with black spots out there on the field.
As a unit, the Falcons fell on the hat, kicking madly, trying to pass it to each other. By the time they realized it wasn't the ball, their opponents were thundering down the field in a ten-man breakaway. As they celebrated the go-ahead goal, they were laughing and pointing at the humiliated Falcons,who were still kicking at the battered, mud-caked hat.
Soccer went from Jeremy's favorite sport to his worst nightmare -- and vanished completely from his poems.
I'm suffering from
I've got the travel bug,
So I must hit the highway
To follow nature's tug.
The need to see the wide wide
Is prickling at my scalp.
I have to head for Europe
And climb myself an Alp,
To tramp through broadleaf
And breath the morning haze.
With oceans to discover,
And brand-new trails to blaze!
To march the plains, sail
To see what I can see --
I leave first thing tomorrow;
Tonight there's great TV.
Copyright © 1994 Gordon Korman and Bernice Korman used by permission