Four Years
Four Years
By Bridget Iverson
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 9
It wasn't an end so much as
a moving on.
The plastic chairs in the gym used to fit her
in fifth grade but now
her knees stuck up too high
and the plastic surface
clung to the fabric of her skirt.
The principle congratulated the music award winners.
She stared at the foam balls caught in the ceiling fans
and heard years-old PE classes
echo in the applause around her.
She wasn't sad to leave.
In high school she could
maybe start better than she did
when she was ten,
better now that she had four more years
of life.
Four years of homework
and teachers
and purple-carpeted floors with
bits of crumbs the janitors never caught.
Four years of walking the halls
with friends, and sometimes
walking alone and wishing someone was with her.
Four years of possibilities
that were never quite possible
for her.
Four years of life.
Four years she was leaving
behind.
UVM Mentor Hey Bridget, my
UVM Mentor
Hey Bridget, my name is Billy and I am a sophomore at UVM. I read your poem here and I really liked it a lot, I think you do a fantastic job crafting very deep images in a very short space. I love the opening of your poem, as I think the first few lines are the strongest of your piece, in particular the stanza
"The plastic chairs in the gym used to fit her / in fifth grade but now / her knees stuck up too high", that captures both the physical and psychological growth that you have had during your time in a way that feels quite genuine and identifiable.
Your poem takes a marked change as it continues, becoming far more blatant with your introspective concerns. You have the image of the crumbs in the carpet, which I think is great, but other than that your lines are far more general statements of your concerns and emotions. Your specified images are so poignant and so effective in your poem that I think adding a few more would just add that much more weight to the piece. Perhaps talking about what those halls looked like alone, how the floor was scuffed from the kids running through in sneakers, or perhaps another image you see from your cramped plastic chair. I'd love to read one more image just before your very powerful closing stanza.
I have to say, though, on the whole you have a very strong piece here. You make such great insight into the process of moving on and ending a part of one's life. Keeping writing, Bridget, you've done a great job so far.