Poetry Boy

Some kids love Batman; some kids love Superman. Some were just dying for the new Captain Underpants book to come out. But my hero was different.

My hero wore a rainbow-colored baseball cap, and shorts that stopped just shy of his hairy knees.

My hero wore colorful suspenders over a white tee shirt.

My hero carried a sign on a stick that read "Poetry Break!" in huge block letters.

My hero was absolutely not the principal in disguise, and how dare you make the suggestion.

My hero was Poetry Boy.

You never knew when Poetry Boy might show up. Maybe you were in the middle of learning about appositives, or you were desperately trying to learn your subtraction facts. Maybe a big spelling test was coming up. Whatever it was, it was always boring, and Poetry Boy would not stand for it! He'd burst into the room and call "Poetry break!" completely disregarding the protestations of the teacher. He'd march right through the desks, hoisting his sign, relieving the class of the scourge of our worksheets. The whole class would gleefully drop our pencils and crowd together on the rug to hear Poetry Boy read us something new.

I don't remember a whole lot about Poetry Boy. I don't remember how often he'd show up, what he read to us, or if I even have his outfit right, but I remember how happy I always was to see him, and how offended he'd get if you tried to ask him a question you would normally ask the principal. It didn't matter. Poetry Boy made poetry something joyous that we could look forward to. He gave me a love for words that always continued to ring inside of me, even after he (and his suspenders) retired.