Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly nor the film Léon, which is mentioned.
You've been an English teacher for a few years now and found it fairly enjoyable. Your first job in London was a bit rough, the pupils had little interest in learning and there was a very real threat of having a knife pulled on you. You regularly questioned your career choice during that time, but felt it paid off when two of your students went on to study English at university. Considering that most of the kids in that school were destined for prison, you felt pretty proud that two of them were fulfilling their potential. It wasn't enough to keep you there though, a job offer from a school in the suburbs drew you away to a safer and better paid job.
You drifted along for a couple of years, not particularly challenged but earning a good wage. It was during a holiday in France that you met a principal of a high school in Seattle who was in need of an English teacher, the previous one having gone on some sort of bagpipe rampage. Luckily the two of you got along famously, so much so that he offered you the job. You thought about it for all of five minutes. It sounded more exciting than your current job. When Principal Franklin described the bagpipe incident, you got the feeling that it wasn't all that strange at his school.
After a couple of weeks at Ridgeway High, you get a feel for the place and it's students. Eccentric is the polite way of putting it. They mostly seem willing to learn, or at least willing to work for good grades but things are usually a little surreal. You're liked by the students, it seems that is because you don't play the bagpipes but they do have their problems. The other teachers warned you about Sam Puckett, you doubted one student could be all that bad. So far you were right but so far she'd only been in three of your lessons, and it was fairly surprising that she had actually done some work to hand in at the end of the last one. It took a lot of coaxing but it seems that she did eventually write a poem. You're just a little worried about her when you finish reading it.
-
A Poem She Didn't Want To Write By Sam Puckett
Firstly, Sir, I think you should be more gracious that I'm in this lesson,
Spencer just got the DVD of Léon, directed by Luc Besson,
I'd much rather be watching that, so you should consider my good behaviour,
As something of a favour,
And stop being a jerk,
By making me work,
Who do you think I am?
-
Perhaps that question will be answered, when I follow your advice,
And write what's on my mind, mostly that stuff isn't all that nice,
But you've caught me on a good day,
When my violent thoughts are hidden away,
So I'll open up my brain,
To see what it contains,
So you can get to know Sam.
-
Mostly I think about punching, for no discernible reason I even think about hitting my friends,
If Carly and I had matching black eyes, I think we might start a trend,
I also think about funny jokes and stuff, you know,
I am part of a famous web show,
Ham, of course, crops up a lot,
On my list of favourites it holds the top spot,
That's what it's like to be Sam.
-
Except, of course, that's not what I'm thinking of right now, the one thing that gets me really hot,
Is a pair of nice feet, and the idea of sniffing them, even in a pair of sweaty socks,
But only on girls, somehow I think guy's feet are revolting but I'll lick any girl's toes,
So Freddie is a no, but I'd love it if Carly pressed her gym socks over my nose,
And the fact that she's got nice legs doesn't hurt,
I have to restrain myself every time she wears a skirt,
That's the kind of pervert I am.
-
And as this poem you made me write nears it's finale,
You've probably deduced that I'm in love with Carly,
Which is close, but no cigar,
I just want to lick all of her lower half,
And maybe bite her toes, or inhale the scent of her foot sweat,
Because that's what really gets me wet,
Because I am Sam.
-
It was interesting, no doubt. She was lucky that you prided yourself on being open minded, you guessed that your predecessor would not have stood for this but as long as she was doing the work, you imagined it as a victory for yourself. Provided she didn't swear or go into graphic violence, you decided, you wouldn't report her to Principal Franklin. There were bigger things to worry about.
Particularly Gibby. The lad's writing so far had been quite awkward, words weren't his medium as such. Unfortunately, his medium was topless dancing and he had taken his shirt off in every lesson so far. There were other slightly unreal problems to deal with as well. By all appearances, Fredward Benson was a normal teenage boy, the problem was his mother. She had come in to see you on the first day of school and was definitely a high dose of crazy, she seemed to think you needed a tick bath. Jeremy was sneezing all through your lessons and all of Rodney's work seemed to contain advertisements for pirated DVD's. Then there was Carly Shay. Although usually reasonable and well tempered, the girl was on occasion, too sassy for her own good. If there were such a thing as a sassiness meter, she could have broken it. The strange thing was that she was completely unaware that the word 'sassy' applied to her.
--A/N--
Not too pleased with the prose, it's just a sort of framework for the poem really. The idea of this fic is that it's mostly random schoolwork from the iCarly crew, but I wanted that to be explained in the piece so that readers are welcome to ignore these Author's notes. I shall have to give credit to SquishyCool, whose fic Nose Ring was the main inspiration for this. Hopefully this isn't too similar, I daresay my prose my be a bit too similar to Nose Ring's first chapter. If you read this SquishyCool and think that, I'll take it down and rewrite it. Or I may be over analysing my thought processes while I was writing.
Anyway, the inspiration for the poem was, it may surprise you, The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe. I started trying to copy the rhyme and rhythm and sort of drifted into something a little easier. I've also been listening to Tim Minchin's beat poems, Mitsubishi Colt and Storm. The matching black eyes idea is based on a strange impulse I had a couple of years ago to let a girl beat me up and the sweaty foot fetish is all mine. This won't all be poetry, nor all from Sam's POV. The dashes in the poem are there because for some reason the formatting wouldn't take, I blame those people who talk at the cinema.
