The Brain

I remember when
I walked into the room
And there she was
My first grade teacher.

She wore a navy
Colored sweater
And a little golden
Necklace
Hair was blonde, like mine
It came over her shoulders.

Boring as that class was
My mind wondered to all over
Many sorts of other things
The classwork was too much a breeze.

Yesterday, they said
My daughter's mind is so gifted
That maybe she is bored in her class too.
They said six months ago she tested
In two grades ahead
And asked me if I knew.

I said it's inconclusive
Her behavior was intrusive.
That it wasn't working then
To capture grade level;
It's still in progress.

Then her eyes
They opened wide
When I explained
The tests revealed
My daughter only uses
Half of what she has-or she did then
And I know because
I saw and signed the paperwork
Six months ago.

Obstructions sometimes lie
In secret things we can deny
Not knowing who we are
Or what we're made of.

Can we see
Behind the frosted glass
Of broken items
And her sass
And bossy, too.

Tantrums wild
House defiled
Bolting out the door
And peeling paint up
Off the floor.

It must be hard
To get one's point across
If others can't absorb
One's message...
We must learn a new language.

8-22-09