My father was also a principal of a school and mother was a curriculum advisor. Both were educators.
quote by Edwin Moses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I Asked Him to Blow On It! (My First Kazoo)
I remember when I got my first kazoo,
In those days so slow paced...
I was bored to tears at recess,
When in elementary school.
We were made to think like fools then.
I am convinced of that.
So I brought my kazoo to school.
And sent to the principal's office.
And as I sat,
Watching the principal play with my kazoo.
I asked him to blow on it!
And he proceeded to believe,
I had asked him to do something else.
I had always been perceptive.
That's why in those days I was bored to tears.
So I cried!
Hating the thought of being sent,
To the principal's office!
I told one of my friends about that.
And within days...
I saw my friend's father,
Not shake...
But hold the principal's hand!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curriculum
Bright sunny skies,
Shine high.
With clouds minimized!
And I know why,
Your eyes...
Are clear,
And particular!
On a flight like a kite.
Excited by height.
And delighted your life,
Has a new insight.
And I,
Enjoy this ride you find...
Particular!
That curriculum chosen,
Is your own.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum chosen,
All alone.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum chosen...
That you've shown.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum...
Nobody but you've got it!
That curriculum chosen,
Is your own.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum chosen,
All alone.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum chosen...
That you've shown.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum...
Nobody but you've got it!
Those bright sunny skies,
Shine high.
With clouds minimized!
And I know why,
Your eyes...
Are clear,
And particular!
Nobody but you've got it!
That curriculum chosen,
Is your own.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum chosen,
All alone.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum chosen...
That you've shown.
Oh, oh.
That curriculum...
Nobody but you've got it!
That curriculum...
Nobody but you've got it!
That curriculum...
Nobody but you've got it!
That curriculum.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Butter in her mouth
Butter in her mouth
School time is just too over, waking up and ready for the school otherwise I will beat you bitterly.
He put off the bed sheet from my body, stretched my hand,
In addition, put me on my foot.
Tears came in my eyes then I went slowly and slowly to my mother in the kitchen,
I put my finger towards my father
And complained about the rude behavior of my father,
Who was asking him to go to the school?
She embraced me; kiss my fore head, and politely asking me to become ready to school because I have to be an officer by studying in the school.
Orders were the same.
Father orders me to wake up and to go to the school while he was having a stick in his hand.
Mother also orders him to go to the school having butter in her mouth.
(From the diary of an Indian)
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Tea Party with Principal Sir! !
What a nice tea party!
Cakes and coffee
Organized at Bangladesh International School & College
For the meritorious students of this school
Oh! Our Principal Sir Col Md Anisur Rahman Chowdhury!
Encourages the students very much
Give us rising hopes
Guides us to the right path as a good human being
What a talented person he is!
He has many dreams with this school!
Scholarship and Talent batch are being awarded by Him to the students!
Such a dedicated and hard working person he is!
We are trying our best to prove our talent!
Our Principal Sir is trying to make our country and school famous!
In such a way so that our country and school are known in the whole world!
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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As long as my sixth graders showed an average improvement of five years, the principal and district pretty much left me alone to create my own curriculum and teach whatever I wanted.
quote by Dan Simmons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As I very much liked to draw and paint as a child, I entered a special art program in high school, which was very much like being in an art school imbedded in a regular high school curriculum.
quote by Jerome Isaac Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the little brown boy from Luyuran
he is the eldest of four
age is 7
he quit school
his mother is a
drunkard and
lives with another
man in the village
his father is
killed by the
lover of her mother
that early morning
four of them
are fetched to live
with his grandma
they buried his father
and his mother
is nowhere to be found
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gross stupidity
It was at a time
where you had
to wear a uniform to school,
had to cut your hair
to a predetermined length
and got caned
if you were naughty,
failed a test,
or sometimes
to let the teacher
enforce his will.
If you complained at home
about getting a hiding at school,
you would probably
get another there too
if you deserved it,
but if you were right,
were punished unfairly
or without a real cause
it was seen in a different light
and a teacher
or whoever the punisher was
would have to face
your father in a fight
and could easily
be hit into hospital.
School regulations stipulated
that you couldn’t receive
more than six whippings on a day,
but at Estcourt high school
on my first day
at the new school
in standard nine (now grade eleven)
I received twelve.
We were lining up
to go to the hall
and a prefect told me
to cut my hair
which were just a bit
longer than how
they wanted it.
I said that I would
and while we were walking
to the entrance of the hall
I was told the same thing
over and over again.
On the eighth time
I told the English prefect
in Afrikaans
not to catch the pip
which was a Afrikaans adage
for do not catch a fit.
He told me to repeat
what I had said,
which I did
and thought
that I was cursing him
and took me
to the Headboy
who was English.
Where I had to repeat
myself again
and I did
as believed in telling
the truth.
The head boy took me
to the principal,
(Mister Robert Smith) ,
who thought
that I was saying
something like
go and play
with your member.
He called in the
vice-principal
(another Englishman) ,
a man with a red beard,
who was convinced
that I was cursing,
who shoved my head
under a table
and whipped me six times.
When I explained what it meant
they didn’t believe me
and called in a teacher
who taught Afrikaans
and the principal gave me
another six whippings
for being insubordinate
and wanted to expel me
if I didn’t have my hair cut
on by the next day.
I didn’t tell my stepfather
(who wasn’t a dad to me) ,
but even he
would have sorted
the headmaster
and vice-principal out
and it would have been
the Anglo-Boer war
all over again.
At the time I thought
that I was grossly stupid,
but thinking back
the headmaster and vice-principal
was probably more so.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Teacher Love
My mother is
Home
Teacher...
My
Teacher is
School
Mother....
My
Father is
Home
Teacher...
My
Teacher is
School father...
Female or male...
Not differnet for
Love...
And Teaching....
Any thing fals...?
No problem....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A mother is neither cocky, nor proud, because she knows the school principal may call at any minute to report that her child had just driven a motorcycle through the gymnasium.
quote by Mary Kay Blakely
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Sinful Or Wild
All or nothing at all
her father had said
and it seemed right
until she met Harpoon
and he seemed her
Mr Right the one she
had been waiting for
the one she'd dreamed
about but then it all
went wrong and he
became Mr Wrong
and oh yes that was
the downfall that was
the way to her deep
depression and that
episode in the bath
when she tried to
drown herself as her
mother had before her
and she discovered her
as a child coming home
from school and the
door was ajar and when
she went in there was
her mother with her
wrists slit and blood
and her mother drowned
and dead and now sitting
there in her mother's
chair her father some
place her husband poking
some other and all or
nothing at all seemed all
there was left apart from
the few books on the shelf
the Bill Burroughs her mother
had read and left and that
Bukowski book she'd found
in some second shop and the
battered Bible which her
father had beat her about
the head and backside with
as a child when her father
had been boozing or she
had been sinful or wild.
poem by Terry Collett
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There are amazing schools and amazing educators that are doing a wonderful job. And then there are a lot of educators that are not prepared to deal with inclusive education. They haven't been trained. It's really quite lovely and easy when you understand how to do it.
quote by Laura San Giacomo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The family tree
I am known by my father
Though equally owned by mother.
I trace from my father’s father,
And not from father’s mother
Nor my mother’s mother or father.
Has family tree any sense?
19.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Instead of a national curriculum for education, what is really needed is an individual curriculum for every child.
quote by Charles Handy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To be fanatic
Mother is a Christian, father, an Islam,
Mother’s mother, a Jain,
Mothers father, a Buddhist,
Father’s mother a Saivite,
Father’s father a Vaishnavite,
And their forefathers none,
Which religion must I be fanatic of?
24.10.2009
[saivites = followers of God Siva;
Vaishnavites = followers of God Krishna]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Welcome back To School!
Welcome Back To School
Welcome back to school
Summer's over and once again school rules
It's now September a long way from June
Glad to have you welcome back to school
Let's get down to business
You have had your fun
Summer vacation is now long gone
Now it's time to learn
Welcome back to school
Learn prepare to take command of your world
Put control of your future in your hands
It's good to welcome you back to school
We are going to make learning fun
With that in mind we have updated our curriculum
Don't look so serious show some enthusiasm
All together now are we ready are we ready to learn
Welcome, welcome, welcome
Welcome back to school.
Anthony S.Phillander©080912
poem by Anthony Shurland Phillander
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The school of hard knocks is an accelerated curriculum.