Beloved, Mrs. Pickle,
with your tiny round glasses
and your patient, patient ways.
My teacher, my teacher, such a mentor you were.
You were everything a teacher should be:
kind and wonderful, gentle and fair.
Even when I wasn’t a friend to my classmates,
there you were with an encouraging smile
as if to say:
“You’ll get it someday, kid.”
And like magic, I did! I got it, Mrs. Pickle.
You were right all along!
Lovely, lovely Mrs. Pickle, no other teacher compares to you.
Your chalk never even squeaked on the blackboard.
Rock on, Mrs. Pickle! Rock on, I say!