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Ballad of the School Morning Teen

Ballad of the School Morning Teen

By Mir Kamin

(With apologies to Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein, and the rest of the thinking world.)

Oh God no, what time is it?
Surely it’s too early; Imma throw a fit!
It’s time to get up for school, you say?
Fine, I’m coming. I said okay.

I’m so tired; my bed is so warm,
Outside the window I think I see a storm.
I’ll just lie back down now for a quick second…
Mom won’t even notice, I reckon.

Whaaaaa…? I’m up. I’M UP, YOU DON’T HAVE TO YELL.
There’s still time for a shower (I don’t want to smell).
I’ll scrub and I’ll primp and I’ll use all the warm water.
Who’s pounding at the door? Eh, I’ll just turn it up hotter.

Now I’m clean as can be and ready to dress.
But what should I wear; I can’t handle this stress!
Is my favorite shirt dirty? In the hamper I’ll check.
It is! What now?? Perhaps I’ll lie down for a sec….

I was just resting, and also a bit chilly.
So I wrapped up in towels and huddled to get warm.
This house blows; I can’t wait to live in a dorm.

Now my sibling wants in and I have nothing to wear.
Stop knocking! I’m not done with my hair.
Hey Mom, I’m out of deodorant, I need more!
What do you mean I should’ve told you before??

My day’s already ruined; nothing’s going right.
This seems like a perfect time to pick a fight.
No one likes you, you’re nerdy and besides, you dress funny.
Stop, don’t tell Mom! I’ll give you some money!

Fine, take the bathroom, I’m going back to my room.
There’s more space in here to continue to groom.
But there’s also that oh-so-inviting warm bed…
Maybe just for a minute I’ll lay down my head.

WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING? I was just on my way
To pick out some clothing to start out my day.
I wasn’t sleeping, I told you, get out of my space!
(Also, ignore this here drool on my face.)

I’ll grab up this shirt, and this pair of jeans.
I’ll ask if they match; you’ll ask if they’re clean.
I’ll wail that you just don’t understand my fashion,
While you sarcastically slow-clap my “passion.”

At long last I’m dressed. I did it! Yay me!
I’ll be downstairs in a minute, I just have to pee.
A quick stop now to pound on the bathroom door.
(There’s another downstairs, but I like this one more.)

My sibling’s in there, the door’s been locked.
How can this be? I’m utterly shocked!
There’s something in there I simply must get!
I’ll knock and I’ll yell to angry retorts of, “Not yet!”

You want me to come have breakfast? I can’t possibly eat.
I’m just not hungry… oh wait, is that a treat?
You made muffins? Thanks, Mom! I’ll toss one in my pack
Where I’ll forget about it until an after-school snack.

Anyway, I have to get my stuff. Where are my shoes?
What do you mean there’s no time to choose??
The ones sitting right there are absolutely no good.
I need the pair that’s missing, that should be understood.

Hang on, I’ll just run back upstairs
To dig in my closet where I keep twelve more pairs.
But now that I think of it, I might want to change.
Because on second look, these jeans are quite strange.

I hear you screaming that the bus will be coming,
So while I change clothes, I drown it out with some humming.
I leave drawers open, clothes all over (like a crime scene).
I come down with no shoes but swear my room’s clean.

What’s happening now, I can’t rightly say…
I’m looking for shoes; you’re muttering about going gray.
Pack up my bag? Sure, I’m getting to it right now.
Sheesh, Mom, I’ve got this—don’t have a cow.

One shoe on, capsized lunch bag, books all over the place.
Can I have my cell phone? Why are you making that face?
It’s fine, I told you, there’s plenty of time!
You’re acting like a little disorganization’s a crime.

What’s that? No, it’s not! I don’t hear anything.
Neither do you! You’re just pretending!
That’s just a car, or a truck, I’m sure. Take a seat.
But a look out the window reveals the bus leaving our street.

It’s not my fault! I would’ve been ready!
My routine was FINE, it was steady!
You should’ve gotten me up earlier! Hassled me less!
Now my blameless dismay I shall express!

Where are you going? I need a ride!
Listen, you can’t be angry with me. I tried!
I did my best, you know; someone else is to blame.
Probably you. God, you’re so lame.

Geez, I was kidding, can’t you take a joke?
What’s that coming from your ears… is it smoke?
I just need a ride, I’m ready to go. Yup.
No rush, I guess, but Mom…? Could you please hurry up?

About the Author

Mir Kamin

Mir Kamin began writing about her life online over a decade ago, back when she was a divorced mom trying to raise two regular little kids and figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now ...

Mir Kamin began writing about her life online over a decade ago, back when she was a divorced mom trying to raise two regular little kids and figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now her life looks very different than it did back then: Those little kids turned into anything-but-regular teenagers, she is remarried, and somehow she’s become one of those people who talks to her dogs in a high-pitched baby voice. Along the way she’s continued chronicling the everyday at Woulda Coulda Shoulda, plus she’s bringing you daily bargain therapy at Want Not. The good news is that Mir grew up and became a writer and she still really likes hanging out with her kids; the bad news is that her hair is a lot grayer than it used to be.

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