Jack's Poem

The crowd of students waited in anticipation.  Some of the students had worked hard to write a poem for a contest. Today the winners would be announced.  The winners (one from each grade) had been selected by the librarians at the local library. 

Mrs. Stafford stood at the podium. She smiled and said, “Attention students!” twice before the chatter stopped. “To the parents who are joining us for this special day, thank you for being here.” She paused again.  “As you know, today we are announcing the winners of the poetry contest. I want to say that I am very proud of all you who chose to participate.”  A cheer started to rise, but Mrs. Stafford raised her hand to calm and stop them. “What I have to say next  is very important. Please listen carefully.” Those who were already listening carefully heard the slight falter in her voice. She drew a breath and let it out slowly.  She looked at the young girl standing in the back of the auditorium with her parents. Madeline had attended the school previously, but now was in middle school. “Two weeks ago, we lost one of our own students, Jack Larson. The winners of the contest were chosen the day before the accident. Jack’s poem was chosen for fourth grade.”

There was a hush in the room. The students who knew Jack best glanced at each other and then down at their laps, as if  not quite knowing where to look, and then raised their eyes again to Mrs. Stafford.

“Jack’s sister, Madeline,  has agreed to accept the plaque when his name is called, and Mr. Hoffman has agreed to read it.” She smiled, feeling better now that the difficult words had been spoken. “Thank you again, students, for your hard work. When I call your name, please come to the front, get your plaque, and read your poem for all of us.  Stay on the platform so we can get a picture after everyone has come up.”  She started naming the names, starting with the youngest student. “Cynthia Parker, author of “Flowers,” announced Mrs. Stafford. The audience cheered and then listened as Cynthia read her very short poem. They clapped politely when she was done. 

“Ben Morris, author of “Really Fast Trucks,” Mrs. Stafford said. There were some friendly laughs from parents among the cheers. Ben grinned the whole time he read his poem, and it was evident that the kid really loved trucks, especially fast trucks. He smiled more as the parents and students applauded when he was done reading. 

 And now Bree Johnson, author of “Happy Summers.”  The audience cheered as the girl slowly approached the front and nervously stepped close to the microphone. She held Mrs. Hoffman’s hand with one and her poem in the other. She gave a tiny, shy smile as the audience cheered their approval.

When the room was quiet again, Mrs. Stafford swallowed hard and said, “Jack Larson, author of (she tried to smile but couldn’t)...author of “My Sister.”  She watched with tears glistening in her eyes as Madeline Larson made her way to the front. She’d known the family since Madeline was in first grade, had watched how sweetly she had treated Jack when he’d started school a few years later, and had always had a soft spot for both kids. She drew Madeline (who was also fighting tears)  into a hug before handing her the plaque. Every person in the audience was clapping. Most had moist eyes, and Jack’s friends tried to hastily wipe their tears between their clapping.  

Mr. Hoffman waited until the audience was ready and then he began in his deep, calm voice.

                                           Some kids don’t like their sisters. 

                                           They think that they are pests.

                                           But I love my sister.

                                           She is the very best.

                                           My sister is my friend

                                           She is always there for me

                                           And she is the the kind of person

                                           That I want to be.                

The audience applauded again, many of the members still in tears. “Thank you, Mr. Hoffman,” said Mrs. Stafford solemnly. She straightened her shoulders and said,  “And now Sky Clark, author of “But Still.” The audience cheered, making an effort to give Sky a strong welcome after the moments of sadness.  Sky read her poem with confidence. The poem itself was fitting for the last reading of the day, a wonderful detail that could not have been planned. It was a comforting poem of hope.  “Poets,  please stay for just a moment for a picture,” said Mrs. Stafford. The photo was taken and the audience gave one last round of applause as the students made their way back to their seats. “There are refreshments in the cafeteria. I hope that everyone can stay a while and visit with each other. Thank you again for coming.” Mrs. Stafford watched as the audience left and couldn’t help noticing that everyone seemed softer and gentler to each other than they had in past school gatherings. Then she saw fifth grade Tyler take his little brother by the hand, an act she had never seen him do before. She brushed away another tear. Jack’s poem had been heard.