There once was a boy who when in the first grade
Would spin, twirl, and fly as if dancing on stage
He’d chop at the air like a robot gone mad
And would jump kick three feet (he wasn’t half bad)
He’d hide around corners, disappear into walls
He’d crouch like a jack-in-the-box, like a spider he’d crawl
He was always wound up and just couldn’t be still
His teacher, always fed up, had a voice that was quite shrill
He made sounds like Bruce Lee during math everyday
And did stunts like Jackie Chan after lunch during play
He’d flip down the hallways when his class was in line
And hop over seats on the bus all the time
His teacher would tell him to “Calm down!” and “Stop!”
She saw his behavior as over the top
But he didn’t do it for laughs, though for him it was fun
He wasn’t being funny, and he didn’t cause harm
He was placed in time out, but that didn’t help
He just tried to climb up the walls and the shelves
He was sent to the classroom next door for a stay
The teachers have never been friends since that day
His parents were called but they too had no clue
As a matter of fact no one knew what to do
The principal suggested they ignore his condition
But if warranted give the boy in school suspension
They all turned to look at the boy in his chair
In his own world, chopping the air
They asked, one by one, if he could control
His impulse to practice karate at school
He nodded his head when his mom made him look
Reached in the desk and took out a book
And just when the adults collectively sighed
He jumped on the chair and let that book fly
The school counselor insisted they put him on meds
To make his behavior more like other kids
To help him focus, and help him keep still
And his parents reluctantly gave him the pills
When he started to take them, he seemed a bit strange
As if overnight his behavior had changed
The sunshine inside him was smothered and stained
The joy he once had felt washed out by gray rain
After one week he was able to sit still in his seat
And the teacher, once shrill, had a voice that was sweet
It was heaven to teach math without his strange sounds
And not have to worry when he was on the playground
His mother, one evening while watching him eat
Noticed she wasn’t bothered by his fidgeting feet
She didn’t have to hush him when she was on the phone
She didn’t have to tell him to leave the puppy alone
He didn’t jump out and surprise her anymore
He didn’t play with the broomstick while sweeping the floor
He didn’t splash all the water out of the tub on bath nights
He didn’t pull down the sheets hung to dry during “fights”
He didn’t throw his arms around her and hug her real tight
Before being tucked into bed every night
And then with a tear she’d held back for a while
She noticed that her little boy didn’t smile
