Miss Pass

My first best friend was Susan.

We were inseparable.

Soon we would be starting school.

Starting at the same school.

It shouldn’t be a problem.

But Susan was three months older

and this was a problem.

She must start earlier

and we would be parted.

Unthinkable!!

Such concern from our parents.

But all was well.

It wouldn’t be a problem.

And all thanks to Miss Pass,

the headmistress,

a wonderful woman

who understood the feelings 

of small children.

We could start together

and in the same class.

She was a shining example 

to teachers everywhere.

We knew it as we hung our coats

on pegs next to each other

in the cloakroom.

But a few days later 

when we had settled in,

disaster struck.

We were to be in different classes.

Such tears and trauma

as we hugged and kissed

and said goodbye at our pegs

in the cloakroom

each morning and afternoon.

And all because of Miss Pass,

the headmistress,

a stupid woman

who had no idea about the feelings

of small children

and should never have been allowed

to be a teacher anywhere.

We knew it as we hung our coats

on pegs next to each other

in the cloakroom.

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