School Days

Her name was Sister Florence,
a teaching kind of nun.
Well, let me tell you that class
with her was never fun.

She wore a stern expression.
I never saw her smile.
Her face was like that sphinx there
along the river Nile.

I had her in the sixth grade,
as best I can recall.
Or maybe I’m mistaken;
I’m not sure after all.

Those days are kind of muddled;
I’ve tried hard to forget.
But I can say for certain
I wasn’t teacher’s pet.

No, no, I was the student
who always was in Dutch.
I often got in trouble;
I fooled around too much.

Those nuns just didn’t get me.
They thought I was a pest.
They had no sense of humor,
of that I can attest.

But as for Sister Florence,
she may have been so stern
but I will tell you one thing,
she made sure that I learned.

In fact, if I am honest
I owe some gratitude
to all the nuns that handled
my no-good attitude.

So, thank you, Sister Florence.
When all is said and done
I’m sure you didn’t think I
was your idea of fun.