I remember standing alongside Mrs. Pigeon as she read the poem to herself. I could see her lips moving.
“Come on, get to it, woman! You’re gonna love it!” I remember thinking to myself.
“Woodpecker sent a telegram.
I heard that tapping sound.”
At long last. “Here it comes,” I thought. Surely SHE’S going to get it!
“When he stopped, he slipped,
And fell upon the ground.”
(Okay, so it wasn’t Nikki Giovanni, but keep in mind I was only ten.)
Mrs. Pigeon’s response was classic! I still remember her tossing her head back, giving a very audible, enthusiastic wail of a laugh—and I believe there was an angelic chorus in the background. “I love it! Judith! I love it!” she exclaimed, her hearty laughter causing strife and envy throughout the sea of ten-year-olds.
Yes, finally, I did it! I found my calling! A star was born and it was ME!
This might sound a bit over the top, but that very brief moment remains with me even today, over thirty-five years later. Mrs. Pigeon has no idea how her response completely changed my introverted world into one of endless possibilities.
She doesn’t know how I often think of her when I’ve reached a professional milestone in my writing career, how she set the tone for my future. She doesn’t know that I’m working from home as a full-time writer, and that I credit her and that one moment in time—however fleeting—with laying a blueprint for who I was to become.
I’ve held all types of jobs: actor, singer, construction worker, corrections officer, executive assistant, etc. But the point I have to make is that I’ve come back home to my roots. To the place I found at ten years old in an unassuming elementary classroom with a teacher named Mrs. Pigeon.
So, Mrs. Pigeon, thank you.
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