[muttering, girls chattering]

"What's this?"

Girl: "Through all the long night,
Winter moon glows with bright love,

Sleet her silver tears."

[Sokka sighs]
[Music]

Sokka (dreamily): "Poetry."

[crash, girls cry out in shock]

Sokka: "I am so sorry. [grunts]
Something struck me in the rear.

[thump] I just wound up here."

[girls giggle and clap]

Teacher: "Five, seven, then five
syllables mark a haiku.

Remarkable oaf."
[Music]

Sokka: "They call me Sokka.
That is, in the water tribe.

I am not an oaf."

[girls giggle]

Teacher: "Chittering monkey.
In the Spring he climbs treetops,

and thinks himself tall."

Girls: "Oooh."

Sokka: "You think you're so smart 
with your fancy little words.

This is not so hard."

Girls: "Ooooh!!"

Teacher: "Whole seasons are spent
mastering the form, the style.

None calls it easy."

Sokka: "I calls it easy.
Like I paddle my canoe,

I'll paddle yours too!"

[girls giggle and clap]

Teacher: "There's nuts and there's fruits.
In Fall, the clinging plum drops

always to be squashed."
[squelch noise]

Saka: "Squish squash, sling that slang.
I'm always right back at ya.

Like my boomerang."
[girls laugh loudly]

[Music]

Sokka: "That's right, I'm Sokka.
It's pronounced with an 'okka.'

Young ladies, I rock ya."

[silence, crickets chirp]

Man: "Ah, that's one too many
syllables there, bub."

[dramatic music, Sokka yells]

Sokka (sadly): "Poetry."