Remembering My First Poem: A Tribute to Ms. Hawes

I remember the first poem I ever wrote. In fact, I still have the original copy, 36 years later.

I don’t remember the details, of course, but what I do remember is how much I adored my third grade teacher, Ms. Hawes. I would do anything within my power to impress her. When she once made me stand with my nose to the board for talking, I wasn’t worried about her telling my parents or getting in trouble at home. Instead, I was absolutely devastated to think I had disappointed her. I vowed to make it up to her because I couldn’t bear to think I had let her down by doing something so awful as (gasp!) talking while she was giving directions!

Ms. Hawes read us some sample poems and talked to us about things like rhyme and form before turning us loose, encouraging us to write a poem about anything we wanted.

Anything we wanted? Oh, why was the topic so broad? How was I supposed to write the best poem ever and impress my favorite teacher with so little guidance?

After wracking my brain, I decided to imagine I was a fish who lived in the ocean. Everyone loves the ocean, right?

I worked meticulously on my poem about living in the sea, carefully copying it over onto a clean sheet of paper in my best handwriting until I was 100% satisfied it was perfect. 

When Ms. Hawes announced she would be laminating our final poems and hanging them on the bulletin board in the hallway for everyone to see, I knew I had to do something extra special to make mine stand out from the rest of the class. I decided to draw a small blue fish swimming through waves of water below my poetic masterpiece.

I don’t remember seeing my poem hanging on the bulletin board or what my parents (or anyone else) thought when they read it, but I do distinctly remember Ms. Hawes asked me to stand in front of the class and read it aloud. I beamed as I stood in front of my classmates to read my poem. My hard work had paid off in a big way, and I was so proud and happy that she recognized my efforts.

Many years later, I ran into Ms. Hawes at a wedding and was able to formally thank her for inspiring my passion for reading and writing during my formative years. Her encouragement and kindness helped me feel brave enough to share my writing with others and even helped influence my decision to become an educator. 

Looking back at it now, the poem my nine year-old self wrote was certainly no Pulitzer prize winner. Still, the pride I felt when writing that poem and realizing I was a real poet is something I remember to this day. Who could have imagined that all these years later, I’d still be writing and sharing my writing on a virtual “bulletin board” in the form of this blog? Thank you again, Ms. Hawes.

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Is there a special teacher who impacted your life in a meaningful way? If so, please comment below. I’d love to hear about it!