In Madame Loret’s class

Madame Loret was my teacher in third grade when I went to French school. She was very interesting to say the least.  Extremely strict and known all over the school for being terrifying. Her husband was also a teacher and just as evil, he taught my sister in first grade. I guess it is good for the world to have horrible people marrying each other, then more good people left for the rest of us. Here is an over dramatized version of my third grade experience. Hope you enjoy:)

In Madame Loret’s class

Her voice echoed through the halls
Bouncing off the walls
Little children running around
She blurred in with the crowd
100 years old
Standing at only 4ft. 5
Her heels slamming the floor
Every small step she took
We knew when she was coming
The language of love
Destroyed by her harsh tone
Every single word carried anger
Shattering our ears with aggression
Forever traumatized
My 8 year old self will never be the same
Who knew we could be so scared of such a tiny old woman
The bell rings
Our hearts beat faster with excitement
Slow movements only
We warn ourselves
Exiting calmly as she watches our every move
As closely as a hawk watches their prey
The second our foot steps out the door
We are free
Free at last
Free to be children
But as the next day follows we return
We return to the jail we have all grown up in
Minutes that turn into hours
that turn into days
and lastly months
All of us eagerly waiting for the day summer comes
Where we can be free at last
The only dreams our minds could make
every night we lie awake
Turn into nightmares as her face appears
We scream and sit up
realizing it was not reality
We will never be completely free
We were sure to never see her face again
We thought we escaped her haunting path
But no 500000 km from where we last saw her
She appeared
Standing still and somewhat peaceful
Her fragile figure
Wrinkly as ever
We jolted as if our lives were at risk
Sprinting as fast away from her presence as possible

She is never fully gone

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