He shouted out at random,

and he danced upon the desks.

He had an old rusty bugle horn,

that he used on those at rest.

He always played quaint songs,

upon his stereo.

Bugle boy and others

a shout and to the floor we’d go.

Beware the wrong answer,

it’s worse than failing a test.

If you don’t know the response,

then you’re a ‘communist’.

Such things within four walls

that I recall to this day.

Laughter learned, lessons earned,

a teacher who’ll never fade away.


Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog post and have no artistic claim to it.


One thought on “Mr. Wilcox

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s