Scholastic benchwarmers unite!

On this very day in 1994, I was asked to write 12 lines of rhyming poetry in the span of 24 minutes. This was all in preparation for a 11:30am final exam that would happen on the 12th... The feedback I received was lukewarm at best.

"All of this seems slight; maybe quickly done. It's hard for me to tell what you are trying to achieve here." - Professor Colquitt (super educated w/ thousands of hours of tenure)

The class in question? Engl 4213-035

The title in question? "1997"

01. All is well in this month of June.

02. We're sitting here staring at the moon.

03. At the stars, we hopelessly gaze...

04. Asking question about our human maze.

05. We're the future, it hardly seems.

06. Why can't our days be tiny dreams?

07. Scared? I guess it depends,

08. On how and when our time here ends...

09. Today's news is responsible for my honest thoughts.

10. It's true, one day our houses will be vacant lots.

11. The day is coming; She'll level the land.

12. Promise me, my love, you'll keep holding my hand.

It was a weak effort, I know... And Betsy was incredibly gentle in her assessment. She was always kind when it came to ripping my words to shreds. But 24 minutes seemed like a tall order and to me, it was maddening... I finished with 6 minutes to spare and promptly left the room. This much, I remember. Betsy felt that I could have worked longer to produce something better... I told her that I was hungry. She was right. I was wrong.

The last line was my favorite as the piece was built around those words. All 12 lines could have been better... When I found this earlier today, I smiled and remembered how her feedback still rings true today all these years later.

I always have a point and I felt like I had a point then... From the beginning... Lines #5, #6 & #8 give something away. At least they did then... My points will not always be clear, but the idea behind the meaning will show itself at some point. "1997" was what I called a "lollipop" piece, but I remember being so proud of the 18 minutes I spent building the sequence. Simple, yes. Silly, probably. Weak, definitely. A poet, I was never going to be... Never.

However, Professor Colquitt pushed me and her feedback always rang true. She often admitted that my ideas were lost on vacant thoughts, but she appreciated my careful treatment of said thoughts. Looking back, that particular class taught me more about myself than anything I had ever signed up for... I was grateful. I was happy to be there and she was always happy to show us something... And teach us, she did... Free thought and honest criticism. We were a small group and the feedback always went from rainbow bright to dark, polarizing debate. It was a great place to be... Never a dull moment and one class I never skipped... I couldn't...

A Texas Literary Hall of Famer... A published poet to the highest degree... Recipient of awards, large and small. A true Who's Who. A proper scholar... Professor Betsy Colquitt passed away last month.

This is my way of saying, "Thank you." I never said it enough...

- Still a benchwarmer