poem by Rob MacDonald


A man walked into my classroom during a test and said he’d been shot.  Blood bubbled from a hole in his shoulder.  My students took copious notes.  One of them asked, “Was the shooter a stranger?”  “No,” the man answered.  Another asked, “Is it more of a throbbing pain or a constant ache?”  “Yes,” he said.  The questions continued for quite some time: “Will you live each day with a greater sense of urgency and purpose?”  “Yes.”  “Could you see the bullet approaching in slo-mo?” “No.”  “Has this incident eradicated what little faith you had in humanity?”  “Yes.” All of my students were able to predict his last words, so they earned extra credit.  I drew smiley faces atop all of their tests.



Rob MacDonald