KIss this is...!
Teacher cry
On Class room...
For 2nd class
Student
Lips bite...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Related quotes
My class
My class is a funny class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a circus
That will conquer the school
We have acrobats
We have clowns
and we even have elephants
My class is a noisy class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a market
That will conquer the school
We have hawkers
We have fruiterers
and we even have butchers
No matter what
A circus or a market
We enjoy our class
When the teacher is not in
poem by Sarah Ally
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A different type of homework
Being a science student I attended cookery class for only one term
(3 months) in Class 8th...This poem is a small contribution for the
Cookery Class when we had to make Cookies at home and take
them to school for checking/inspection :) I have tried to make it a
funny poem :)
I was given homework to do,
a good presentation I made.
Next day I showed it too,
and all my friends admired.
My teacher came to inspect it,
and she sniffed it like a puppy.
Then she took a small bite,
chewed it and looked happy.
She took another bigger piece,
munching away and smiling.
I watched not feeling nice,
seeing my homework disappearing.
Soon she had finished it all,
I stood with my mouth agape.
My homework seems vitamins full,
that a teacher ate it with a burp?
Normal marking of assignment is to make you pass,
What of tasting and then eating your homework?
Your marking is done like this in class!
in cookery class the teacher eats your work. :)
renukakkar 28.10.2011
Copyright@2011
poem by Renu Kakkar
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In The Art Class
I look around this joyful room,
Amongst the peaceful teens
This is perhaps the only class
Where students are not machines
In the art class they’ll smile
In the art class they’ll yell
In the art class they‘ll be kind
And not raise a hell
Many teachers wonder why this is so
Many teachers wonder where the secret lies
The secret to peaceful teens, which enjoy their work
The secret to the students without depressed cries
The students wonder how they could not get it
How they could not understand
How the teachers don’t realise
That in the art room there are no demands
In the maths class there are complications
In the English room there is language
But in the art room there is only creativity
It is that which students which to salvage
The art teacher is simple and kind
The art teacher doesn’t lecture or scream
The art teacher doesn’t force them to be equal
And make a most horrendous scene
No, in the art class they are not equal
But the differences they admire
They have a writer, a painter and a sculptor
And they have freedom to aspire
Freedom is what the students wish
The students wish to be treated like people
In the art class they are treated as such
In other classes they are believed incapable
The students will always be at peace in the art room
There will be no fights, no pain, and no scorn
The other teachers will wonder what the secret is
But their attempts to find out will always be forlorn
poem by Lenore Lee
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Very Bad
At class
Room...
Female teacher
Teaching maths
Some students are
watching...
Some student
How to love the teacher...?
Think feel free student
Female teacher
Teaching maths
Very well
Some studnt are not
very bad...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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An angel was passing through the Sky
Hey! Anyone can answer me what's life.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.
Can anyone tell me what is dream.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.
Can anyone tell me what is fear.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.
Can anyone tell me what is mind.
All the hands in the class go down.
Time was passing, without a single sound.
Classroom was fulfilled by husky wind.
'Last bench corner '
'Last bench corner ', hey! you tell me.
The boy was looking far far away behind the window grills.
Stood up.
Placed his hand on his chest and closed his eyes.
An angel was passing through the Sky.
poem by Sougata Majumder
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My Class
my class are sometimes noisy
dont mean to be rude
dont mean to shout out
or have the odd chew
we dont mean to swing on our chairs
we wouldnt dare try answer back
my class is full of intelligent pupils ready to work
we dont mean to cause a fuss
or sharpen our pencils at the last minute
we really dont mean to drive our teacher round the bend
my class are acually quite funny
but darnt laugh we our teacher is talking at the front of our class
we like to joke around but we no wen to stop
somehow at the end of most days my teacher will go away with a sore head my question is... who gave her it?
poem by Lauren Seath
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Hi I'm A Girl
Hi i'm a girl who wants to be presedent then i'll make people paint there faces pink because the red cheif wants me to and i really need your vote! ! ! ! Ok dalpal, said the teacher looking at me 'your not president yet....' 'ok i said' i mumbred 'i wish she was dead because i'm a poet and she dinny know it i can break a ryme almost everytime and........''QUITE DALPAL! ' Roared the teacher. Sorry but i have a dream....i am floating down the stream and i am ryming my heart out BUT YOU HAVE TO RUNE IT AND SHOUT! i shouted! 'ok dalpal then you can be our new teacher miss.Honey' said the teacher raising her eyebrows. 'i was not ashamed i was quite exited to share mt poems with the class' so i mad my was up the top of my class and said ' if this is this and that is that then you and you = me and me you see. The class stared and thought then i could hear the aaaaawww! They still never knew what i was talking about so i contiued.' the Teacher were cross and me ed fell off thats called london English oh if only there was a thig calle dsinglish and....'OK WELL DONE YOU'V MANAGED TO CONFUZE MY CLASS'said the teacher SO THERE I'V OUT SMATRNED HER and i'ma peot and know she knows it! '
poem by Dalpal Honey
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For My History Teacher
I’m sitting in class,
My eyes about to close,
I hope teacher don’t see,
I hope she don’t see me.
Bored out of my mind,
Falling so behind,
Cannot concentrate,
I came to class too late.
Although I was on time,
My body was I mean,
My mind is still outside,
From class trying to hide.
What does all this mean?
I haven’t used it yet,
How can I retain it,
When already I forget?
And then she walks over,
That teacher of mine,
A smile in her eyes,
A gentle one at that,
She puts her hand on me,
And sets me kind of free.
Now here I am in class,
Learning about the past,
About history,
And what it did for me.
How we can learn,
From mistakes of old,
Of people so different,
Some so very bold.
Some stood against oppression,
Some stood against the wrong,
Some said it with dignity,
Some said it with a song.
I owe it to them,
And teacher here to hear,
What they did for us,
And no longer fear.
That knowledge is so dull,
No longer hurts my brain,
No longer hurts my skull,
It will surely keep me sane.
The past is the future,
Unless I stay awake,
So I can benefit,
There’s much more at stake.
Than I thought before,
Before I got to class,
Thank you History teacher,
For bringing to life the past.
I never got bored in History class, because I had a wonderful History Teacher. This is for her.
poem by Aisha Sherazi
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Don't Be Mean Be Smart
Sitting in the classroom
Trying to figure out
The difference of being mean and being smart
My teacher says, don't assume
Try a different route
Don't try and pick the world apart
There are kids in my class
That are mean to others
I don't think that, that is very nice
I see them being harassed
Except my little brother
When they see me, they always think twice
The teacher trys hard
To be fair to all
But sometimes thats not the case
The student may be barred
From the classroom to the hall
To meet the principal face to face
And when he returns
To the class of his peers
He would've dug down deep into his heart
There's one thing he learned
From the yelling in his ears
Is that being mean does'nt make you smart
poem by Kevin Seales
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.
quote by Ann Landers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
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I shall call the class, Heaven
'A class is not just a class
A class is like a temple.'
'Such as the God lives in temple
Same way the students lives in the class
Both are with the shiny face and broad smile.'
'A class is like a flower
That blooms with the light of the students.'
'A class is like a nursery
In which every type of flower planted.'
'In this way the class is a heaven
If we see it with our soul eyes
If we feel it
then we will find us
In the presence of God
And that is our respected Teachers.'
poem by Mahaveer Kumawat
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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to my teacher Ms. emily
To my teacher to Ms. Emily
I always look forward to your class when I came to school. I enjoy each lesson you teach.
As my role model you inspire me to dream, to work very hard in class and to reach. Your an awesome teacher, your smart and intelligent.
With your kindness you always get my attention. But To be honest, sometime I bother you.
You make me understand each lesson you teach. I'm thankful for all that you've done to me.
I admire you each day and I just want to say As a teacher you are the best forever.
poem by Djabir Yaya
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From a Dropout's Point of View
I remember when I cared
When getting to class on time was a nessecity
When homework was completed before I was home
When there was nothing lower than a 85 on my report card
But that's nothing but a memory
I've lost the desire to succeed
To push myself to the limit and beyond
To even come to class
To care about my life
I've lost myself
I've lost myself to the parties, the money, the 'lifestyle'
I just wish I could forget so it wouldn't be so painful to remember
I wish I found the old me
The me that cared about my life and everyone around him
The me that had every teacher's and student's respect
The me that was still in high school
poem by J.A. Miller
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Class of 08
The class of 08 is the best
The class of 08 is above the rest
The class of 08 passed all there test so
The class of 08 will graduate!
poem by Kamilah Samuels
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Sleep Nice
Teacher was
Sleeping well
Students are
Speaking
Love storys
And funney sexy jokes
On the class room...
Teacher sleep
With very nice...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Two birds on the same tree
Two birds rest on the same tree;
their eyes are bright;
they look alike; yet one
is the Teacher; one the Student;
the Student tastes all the many fruits
upon that tree; the Teacher sits, just watches,
filled with love and pride;
the eyes of both are bright;
when the Student has tasted all,
the Teacher asks what has been learnt; for
only the Teacher knows within their heart:
that now the Student is the teacher;
the Teacher listens as a student;
the Student speaks now as a teacher
who has learned this of themself;
the Teacher’s eyes are bright:
knowing that to live it through
shows the knowledge to be true;
the Student is teaching the Teacher now, of
how to teach; the Teacher glows to know
the Student may surpass the Teacher;
knowledge shines from both their eyes;
who is the more glorious of these two
who share both the same name?
who rejoice to need the other;
who rejoice to be the other;
now they are silent; now the tree’s rejoicing too;
Its roots above; its fruits below;
its leaves, a shelter;
its branches, home.
*
[ Leaning on a poem of Kabir: Indian readers will be familiar with
'two birds in a tree' as a metaphor for acting with detachment; Kabir takes this further, into knowledge gained from wise action...]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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English Class
English Class
Is supposed to be fun.
But when teachers make you
Listen to them while they talk about
Nothing
You don't really pay attention.
You drift off instead,
Floating around in your head,
Thinking about things that don't make sense
And about sense that don't make things.
You doodle on a page,
Or stare at the walls,
Or read under your desk,
Or stare at the teacher
And wonder how she managed to qualify
To be a teacher when she doesn't even use
Grammar.
I think it's stupid
To waste an hour of my day
Sitting doing nothing.
It's pointless to sit here
When I could do something
More.
I could:
Volunteer,
Or be in Drama class,
Or could be making a movie,
Or helping my mom,
Or hanging out with my friends,
Or helping my brother and sister learn to ski,
Or doing SOMETHING, ANYTHING ELSE.
This class isn't doing
Anything.
I can feel my love for English
Dissapearing.
It's sad that one teacher
Can ruin an
Art form.
poem by Kelsey Tennant
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Chating
Teacher
At class room
Take sleep
Students play
Chating game...
Teacher shouted...
Suddenly...
'Slilince'
Students all are
Stop the chatting...
Teacher go for
The sleep...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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