In the shoes of a teacher whose tongue did a jumble, in front of the whole school and parents on closing day, when he was reading the marks of the pupils for all present to hear.
'Twas on closing day,
When my tongue did a jumble,
Not my liking, I suppose,
But it did all the same.
'Stood up to read the marks,
And I called parents pupils,
Tried again, stammering,
But it didn't help a thing.
Okay, I was corrected,
And called parents parents,
I could see them smiling,
Smiling at my slip.
'Asked them to forgive me,
For I would read in Kiswahili,
There again my tongue somersaulted,
This time my face felt hot.
I don't know what they thought of me,
A tall, good-for-nothing teacher, maybe,
But one thing I know, surely,
All of us 've had a slip one time or the other.
(Drop Ritch a line here: undaunted at yahoo dot com)
