The Day Rhyme Made Me Smart

When I was a young lad in elementary school,
I was an underachiever, and that wasn’t cool.
Not for my teachers, my parents, or classmates so cruel,
Echoing, “No, that’s wrong, do it again!”  
But no matter how I strained, I just couldn’t win.

The pressure, the teasing, none of it helped.
My mind stayed off-track, my confidence shelved.
A big test tomorrow… what would I do?
Why bother studying? Why bother? What’s the use?
“You’ll strain your brain, go insane, and fail this one too.”

But I tried again, took out book, paper, and pen,
And made yet another attempt at my failing studying.
I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly it did:
I began to write in rhyme, every paragraph, every tidbit.

I took the printed words and reshaped them in time,
Rewriting, revising, turning lessons into rhyme.
And when it was time to sleep, the echoes filled my mind.
Soft rhythms drifting gently, leaving anxiety behind.
I hadn’t felt that relaxed in such a long time.

At my desk the next morning, pen at the ready,
My teacher placed the final exam before me, steady.
For the very first time, I looked at the test, smiled wide,
And tackled that sucker confidently, with nothing to hide.

Question after question, no hesitation, no fear,
Each answer flowed clearer with every idea.
Then came the essay… but all I could think was rhyme,
So I translated my verses into prose more aligned
With the average reader’s everyday mind.

“Time’s up. Pens down.” Tests collected, graded, stored.
Tomorrow we’d learn who’d move on, and who’d stay back one grade more.

The next morning my teacher returned each test one by one,
Praising some students loudly, scolding others when done.
Then she placed mine on my desk, staring at me in dismay.
“See me after class,” she said. “Something is wrong here today.”

She paused, confused, unsure what to say…
"Congratulations," she said to me suspiciously, “You got an A.”
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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