The Power of Words

The Power of Words ©
Gary Shulman, MS. Ed.
7/24/23

As a third grade child back in Brooklyn NY
A school memory I will choose to share
For an eight year old chubby crew-cut boy
Should not have a worry nor a care

Sometimes the joy in a young child’s life
Finds obstacles that joy to impede
Well liked I was, friends I had too
But sadly, I could not read

So what happened back then to drastically hurt
And made school truly something to fear?
As a lesson to all that tale I’ll recount
My pain I will gladly share

Well an eight year old child if truth be told
Should be reading or so it is said
Expectations do follow us through those years
School shouldn’t be something to dread

Each day I’d observe all my fellow classmates
Reading sentences out loud with such pride
While this chubby well liked crew-cut boy
Just wanted to vanish and hide

For the teacher would give me papers to color
When all others were proudly reading
I’d choose very carefully the colors to use
While inside my young heart was bleeding

Self-assured I would go to present my work
To the teacher I verily respected
One look she took and out from her mouth
Came a dagger that wasn’t expected


WRONG! She exclaimed and my heart diid sink
Wrong, but how, but why such trauma!
Didn’t she want my favorite colors
Why tantrum with so much drama?

Again the same paper she told me to color
Trepidation from my feet to my nose!
Perhaps the colors she wants me to use
Are the ones that are covering her clothes?

So I carefully found those very same hues
And color away I did dare
With fear in my heart and my step a bit slow
Finished product again I would share

Wrong again!  She did shout and embarrassed I was
For all students did stop and hear
How this grown up mentor and role model for all
Was instilling this child with fear

One final time the paper she gave
To a child with rapidly sinking pride
Perhaps there is some hidden magic involved
Lordy I just wanted to hide!

This whole project trust me if I had my way
I would very gladly eschew
So I threw the crayons way up in the air
What landed on the paper would have to do

The final scene of this childhood tragedy
My very essence that scene did devastate
For words do cut as sharp as a knife
Spirits explode when grown-ups choose to berate

My young heart was beating so very fast
My soul was destroyed it was true
Then out from this third grade teacher’s mouth came
“What kind of an IDIOT are YOU?”

Tears filled my eyes and my spirit felt pain
I had no idea what “idiot” meant
My attempts to be calm were all in vain
As the hurtful message was so clearly sent

You see placed on that piece of paper
Were squiggly lines on the top of the page
Instructing me what colors to use
But read I could not and it doesn’t take a sage

To know if a little boy’s abilities
Can’t meet the task at hand
Why scold, berate and punish
Just let me stick my head in the sand!

It wasn’t until the seventh grade
When a teacher I truly respected
Decided to give this friendly helpful boy
A gift that was never expected

Each Friday those students who rose to the top
And honor roll they had made
Would proudly receive their certificates
While I would hide in the shade

But one Friday I believe those pigs did fly!
The north pole must have melted you see
For the name that was called for the honor roll
Was that “IDIOT” of old, that’s ME!!!

That wonderful caring teacher
Fudged my grades, yes I know that’s not right
But sometimes you just got to break the rules
And know which battles to fight

He saw in me potential,
A potential I could not see
So a boost of love and confidence
He chose to give to me

But the story is not quite over
No the story has just begun
For he pointed his finger right in my face
And the word “GENIUS” he loudly sung!

So now this boy is a genius!
And genius I became
For words have power to heal the soul
Or punish, berate and maim

So on I went to college and more
Magna Cum Laude, awards I received
For all it takes are some loving words
To heal a soul that’s forlorn and bereaved

And now I still can remember
Those painful words that instilled such fear
But the kind words that made my spirits fly
Are the ones I choose to share