The Spitball

I shot a spitball at my friend

who sits three rows from me.

I shot it through a hollow pen

as straight as it could be.

Then happened a most awful thing

I sure did not intend.

That spitball flew another place

and didn’t go near my friend.

It hit my teacher, Mrs. Bell,

and stuck right to her nose!

Now, you can just imagine how

the whole darn class just froze.

My heart was pounding in my chest —

my hands began to sweat.

That spitball was a huge mistake

and filled me with regret.

What happened next was really strange

and still gives me a chill.

Mrs. Bell just stared at me

which made me feel quite ill.

I braced myself for what I thought

would be a dreadful shout.

I braced myself cause I was sure

the woman would shriek, “Out!”

Instead, she smiled and softly said,

“How much is three plus two?”

I was so stunned, I simply said,

“I haven’t got a clue.”

It’s been a whole entire month

since that fateful day,

and I expect you won’t believe

the next thing that I say.

That spitball still clings to her nose;

she doesn’t seem aware,

and just today, I noticed that

her spitball’s grown a hair!

3 thoughts on “The Spitball

  1. This has a surreal charm. It also captures that whole out-of-control thing that is real life for little kids at school. For example, in 2nd grade, we had it drilled into us that we must ALWAYS stand motionless, at attention, during the national anthem. I didn’t feel well, but I stood at attention–and threw up all over the place. The teacher was so mad!


    1. You poor little kid – and what a horrible woman that teacher was!!! With this poem, I always wonder if there really is a spitball on Mrs. Bell’s nose or if the narrator, for the first time, just noticed a mole on her nose the day he shot the spitball and guiltily assumed it was his spitball. It’s the mystery of the poem for me.


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