And history repeats itself...

It's no mystery,
That my favorite subject is History,
My teacher is different, a bit unique,
But this class is what you history buffs seek.
My teacher is more obvious, more apparent,
She has no secrets, she's transparent.
She is much quieter than others, she makes no sound,
And she's quite bouncy, feet always off the ground.
She appears suddenly through the door, out of the blue,
But you have any question and she'll answer you.
She answers questions in a confident fashion,
Her life is history, it's not just a passion.
She knows what happened millennium ago,
And we're like, 'Ma'am, how do you know?'
She laughs and says, 'It's like I was there,'
And she fixes us with her rather pale stare.
She always seems a little out of breath, but she's also so cool,
She's the only one approving of parties in school.
When we passed with flying colors, she said, 'let's enjoy, let's hear it,'
I'm telling you, my teacher is a very lively spirit.
Let me give an example to show what I mean,
Take the case of last Halloween.
We had a fair at school, entered History class,
The effects were wicked, rather bad-ass.
Lights flickered, a chandelier hung,
Werewolves howled and banshees sung.
There were mean looking elves,
Things moved by themselves,
Goblins and trolls,
Blood on the walls,
Nails raked the board,
Weird eyeballs were stored,
I didn't know how to feel,
It all looked so real.
Then, I realized,
Why should I be surprised?
It should be obvious, I should know,
That a freaky Halloween party, my history teacher would throw,
After all what do you expect, when the host,
My dear History teacher, is herself a ghost?