'Twas early in the school year, my teacher had a plan.
"'Me bags’ were our first grade gig. Grade two we mailed Flat Stan.
Third grade was filled with haiku poems. Now that’s my cup of tea.
This year, dear class, the theme for you is, ‘what I want to be.’”
My hand shot up. “Me first! Me first!” Ms. Grundy stared me down.
“We’ll start with Ann A., she’ll go first. Zack don’t act like a clown.”
Oh no, that dreaded alphabet. Why was my last name Zage?
But with the bell about to ring, I finally took the stage.
“If I were an astronaut, I’d rocket to the moon.
Gobble blobs of blue green cheese with mom’s spatula spoon.
I would fill up Mare Tranquility with purple jello mix.
Play soccer with Andromeda or Hale-Bopp just for kicks.”