Leif and the Poem About the Owl
Mr. Pruitt's class had a spring recital, and every student had to say a poem from memory. Leif drew a poem about an owl who watches the sleepy fields at night. It had four verses, and Leif's heart sank.
He read the poem twenty times, and then he covered it with his hand and tried to say it, but by the third line his mind went blank, as if someone had wiped a chalkboard clean.
His grandmother noticed him sighing at the table. "My teacher taught me a trick," she said. "Learn one line at a time, and walk while you say it. Your feet remember what your head forgets."
So Leif marched around the backyard, taking one step for each line and repeating every line three times before he added the next. He pictured the owl in the branches, then the moon, then the mice sleeping in the grass, and soon each line brought a picture, and each picture brought the next line.
On the day of the recital, Leif stood in front of the class. The first verse flowed out. Then, at the start of the third verse, he froze. The room went quiet.
He closed his eyes and imagined walking across the backyard. His foot seemed to move on its own. The words returned, one after another, as if they had been waiting in the grass.
When he finished, Mr. Pruitt clapped first. Leif's knees were shaking, but he was grinning too.