Now those who know me know the story’s wrong.
I mean I was a dull and stodgy kind
of teacher, dull and boring even, one
who never told a joke in class; a mean,
ferocious martinet who cracked the whip
and never let his kids have any fun
in thirty years of teaching. Thirty years
my students never heard me tell a joke.
So don’t believe it. Know it isn’t true
if someone, if a former student, say,
attempts to tell you that I taught a class
while wearing a bright blue metallic wig.
That wasn’t me. That wasn’t me at all.
Remember dull and boring. Strict and stern.
And if somebody tells you that they saw
me, they were there and saw the paper clip
I’d used to hold my tie in place, you know
it isn’t true, you know it can’t be true.
I wouldn’t be caught dead at Open House
while wearing a green tie I’d made myself
from a left over piece of felt or that
I had attached it with a paper clip.
It wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me.
It had to be some other martinet.