Visiting The Wake Of My Teacher
today i visit the wake of
a 98-year old
retired school teacher
i watch her face inside the coffin
she is very peaceful
i begin to remember
when i was once her grade 3 pupil
in that old Miputak Elementary
School
she believed in me
and that is what made me today
she made me believe in myself
and that made her the best person in the world for me
she will not die
she is living in my memory
goodbye dear teacher
you have done your job too well.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
To Keep Watching
The one thing that made my day, today
He was handed a slip of paper
The one thing that made my day, today
The teacher's face blank and unreadable
The student's face pale and drawn with fear
The one thing that made my day, today
Until he read the paper
The one thing that made my day, today
The door shut closed behind the teacher
The one thing that made my day, today
All the other students turned back around
Except one
The one thing that made my day, today
And that one saw the thing that made her day
The one thing that made my day, today
The boy read the paper ... and he smiled.
poem by Hannah Shier
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A teacher who is just right
Have you had a teacher
That makes your heart glow
A teacher is wonderful
A teacher whom you feel honored to have
A teacher who you can laugh or cry with
A teacher whom you can love no matter what they do
A teacher who looks up to you when you don't know
A teacher who just seems to understand you
A teacher who you think about day and night
A teacher whom you pray for as you go to bed
A teacher who is there when need them to
Thoughts of them are always in your head
A teacher who shares with you there ups and downs
A teacher who is there for you in school
A teacher who you share all your smiles with replacing al your frowns
poem by Rosa Tenezaca
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A Little Teacher
At times a little teacher stands before me
With a smiling face.
And her sweet mouth speaks
Things I have never heard.
A cute girl of early teens,
A teacher of principles self imposed.
In her class I am the lone pupil
And she teaches me ever.
The chambers of my recollections past
Cry for a change perhaps,
My old teachers fade into oblivion
As my new teacher waits to steal in.
My learning is her choice
Though the subjects taught are none new.
No notes, no admonishing and no comparisons!
I begin to learn the mind of a growing child.
There arises only one question-
How long will she teach like this?
As she makes steps forward unto her tomorrows
I shall cease to be her pupil.
My steps are made as well
As the tomorrows won`t leave me alone.
Somewhere I may stand stranded with feeble feet
And the gale of ailments may begin to cross my frame.
Then I shall remember the lessons taught by you
My little teacher, my philosopher once
And I shall hold on to your kind love and care
Oh! My dear daughter, let us stop for now.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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My English Teacher
At the grade three
A new teacher came
Around her table
A queue we were all in
Having exercise books on our hands
To get written our names on it
Twining with aroma of her perfume
Let the mind not go back to the bench
My English teacher
Not like other teachers
Wearing new dresses
Pleasant smile with snazzy
I bought a double rule book
To write proper English letters
Putting the alphabet of base
Following day had a message
No more with us
Principle's words
Teacher came to us
We cried a lot
"Why may teacher you go leaving us'
'Is our school not good'
While worshiping on her feet
Without an answer
Looking at us
Touched our heads
She got a transfer
Because of our remote dry school
Since then on
Until primary end
Without an English teacher
My texts books were new
She doesn't know me for sure
Placed an aroma still in my mind
You wrote that name of mine
I am writing today.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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I Sent My Child To School Today
I sent my child to school today
With his little lunch box
When he came home he said his friend
Had gotten the chickenpox,
I sent my child to school today
And asked him what he learned
He told me about firemen
They taught him how not to get burned,
I sent my child to school today
He said, 'Do you know what they taught me? '
He told me they taught him numbers
As well as his ABC’s,
I sent my child to school today
A smile on his face
I gave him a kiss and a hug
And said, 'See ya funny face! ',
I sent my child to school today
His smile bright and wide
But an older child brought in a gun
How did he get it inside? ,
I sent my child to school today
As in every day
But the child with the gun started shooting
The reason? No one could say,
I buried my child after school today
All I can do is cry
I lost my child at school today
And nobody can tell me why.
poem by Doug Hollywood Davis
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The Sunday School teacher talked too much in the way our grade school teacher used to when she told us about George Washington. Pleasant, pretty stories, but not true.
quote by Frances Farmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Age Of Dallas
What did it mean
To be young
In the Age of Dallas?
To come home
To the farmhouse?
Ironing strewn
Across the living room
Mother crying
In front of the T.V.
Re-runs of Dealey Plaza.
I remember someone
Mentioning Camelot
Third-grade in Corvallis
My teacher came from Austin
But the School Secretary
Came from the
Principal’s office
Met our teacher
At the classroom door.
Tears
Flushed cheeks
We were filed
Onto the school bus
Solemnly driven home.
(Portland, Oregon 1978)
poem by Justice Putnam
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My son's Teacher
On this beautiful day
For all of a whole eight hours
My little boy I place
Dear Teacher, with trust in these hands of yours.
Teach him dear Teacher
The right way to grow
So when he is older
He will know the way he should go
By example, dear Teacher
In words that you say
By things that you do
Dear Teacher, show him the right way.
Graciousness let him see
And gracious words let him hear
Not the rude, the nasty
Keep belittling away from his ears.
Show him how firmness and love
Can difficult people or times gently handle
That screaming and beating
Become only a bully’s poor saddle.
I tell him dear Teacher
Solutions are thought
But the cane at school dear Teacher
Tells him by violence they are bought.
Dear Teacher of my little boy
Do please take care
To you he is one in a forty
To me he is one in a one, only!
poem by Dennisa Davidson
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Honor to teachers
Tribute to teachers
What we would have been otherwise?
Only fools in this world and not wise
At least we can think reasonable due to knowledge
Even we remember contribution in old age
We had rebirth in this lovely land
Teacher taught us to be good and lovely friend
We were fighting at home and in school
Some ties were made to stand on stool
It was firm foundation laying
We were almost in school and most of the time staying
Teacher was all the time there and completely paying
Whole attention on our study, sports and with lovely saying
Parents were leaving us at the gate
We were scared when getting little late
It was strict discipline and imposed
We were to live up to the standards and supposed
We knew nothing what the world and its people were
He was almost with us to work hard and fare
There was no let up in our preparation
We were in perfectly aligned with relation
Even though sometimes we were scared but exactly not beaten
Warned of dire consequences in exams if not properly written
It was his unstinted support that drove us to conclusion
There was no room left at all for confusion
We were tuned into fine metal of gold
It was put into furnace and made solid and bold
It was complete purity that was to be put before world
There was not going to be any doubt when put for sale or sold
We were made such a fine blend
What were we as raw when made to bend?
Absolutely nothing of any worth or value
Why not today pay as respect which is really due?
We will miss his/her capacity in whole of the life
As life was made worth to walk on edge of the knife
If we were today known as great statesman or celebrity
The same was injected by him in us as great quality
Let us pray the due respect by making it remarkable
That it is his efforts that we are made capable
We should not remain ungrateful for according honor
It is never expected anytime nor asked for
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Paddling bully
In the seventh grade I had a bully for a teacher.
He was ugly and he was indeed a horrible creature.
He gave paddlings and that really got us kids annoyed.
He'd smile when he paddled because it was something he enjoyed.
He gave over twenty paddlings a day.
Even if we did no wrong, he'd paddle us anyway.
One afternoon all I did was speak to a friend.
My teacher hit me seven times on the rearend.
It really hurt when he hit me with his paddle.
A lot of kids don't squeal but I decided to tattle.
I told my uncle who stands 7'3' and weighs 250 pounds.
He said he was going to visit my school and that my teacher was going down.
My uncle told my teacher that he had no right to paddle me just because I talked.
Then he broke all of my teacher's limbs and he couldn't even walk.
I got a new teacher and I said Hooray!
My former teacher decided to stop teaching on that very day.
poem by Randy Johnson
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Read
I'm a pupil
Not a teacher
I go to school
Islamic and western
A teacher in the class
I don't play or make noise
When at home
I read and play!
In school report card
I come first
Every body loves me
Lizard nodes head for me
Teacher gives me money
Mommy gives me chocolate
Daddy gives me a toy car
Birds sing for me
I smile! Laugh! ! And laugh! ! ! !
I'm still laughing
Ha! Ha! ! Haaa! ! !
poem by Bello Sagir Imam
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Influenced By Europeans
As An American I can say,
I've been influenced by Europeans.
I grew up with Jews and Italians,
Most of my young life.
My high school had a mixture,
Of Russians, Portuguese, French
And Spaniards.
Who would find me humorous...
When the teacher saw my hand raised,
To sometimes ignore.
Until I made outbursts.
Expecting from her more.
I took two years of French.
And had friends of several races.
Then one day all of that was changed.
When the city I now live in...
Became a place for bigoted racists.
Oh there may be many who will try to deny what I say.
But when I was a child,
Where I live wasn't divided as it is today.
With waves of bused in suburbanites...
Coming to work during the day.
To leave their jobs for an urban flight!
When I was a child,
Not much of that was in sight!
The first time I heard the word 'nigger'
Was from a Black music teacher,
Who wanted to impress.
Reminding us of how she felt.
And made sure to us that was addressed.
Oh yes!
As An American I can say,
I've been influenced by Europeans.
I grew up with Jews and Italians,
Most of my young life.
My high school had a mixture,
Of Russians, Portuguese, French
And Spaniards.
Who would find me humorous...
When the teacher saw my hand raised,
To sometimes ignore.
Until I made outbursts.
Expecting from her more.
And I was not hushed,
Until I got it!
Dedicated:
To those friends I remember
from Northeast Junior High School
and Hartford Public High School.
Just a 'few' years ago.
Or, more appropriately, decades
that seemed to have flown away.
~LSP~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Perfect school
THE PERFECT SCHOOL
A place where a student worships his teacher as a god,
The heads of the children before their teacher nod.
The place is the school where teachers give education,
It’s a school where there is afforestation.
A school that has all the beauties,
Is a perfect school whose students have all the qualities.
A school whose students will become president and magic vista,
A school whose students will become Rabindranath Tagore and Mother Teresa.
The Perfect School is a school whose trees will always be uploaded with fruits of joy, success and happiness,
A school whose students will never have a future of darkness.
That school will conquer the world,
In that school, music will be sung by birds.
CONTRIBUTED BY:
Gautam Kumar Sharma
poem by Gautam Sharma
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one day at school, Korea (1801)
I don’t like school, Sir
most venerable teacher;
and though you are kind, Sir
and all my classmates too
and you all help me study and learn
like you make me know
the first five characters in the alphabet
but the moment I am out of school
all I can remember
are the rice-cakes and sweets and the dumplings my mother makes
and true, Sir
most venerable teacher
you teach me the numbers
and I can count from 1 to 5
when I am in class
but when I’m out
I love the toys my father brings
and I play with the wooden toy soldiers
and I love the ducks and the clay horses;
and I really can’t remember the first five letters
or the first five characters
when I lie in bed
and when I am back in class Sir
dragged in by Old Madam Toothless Bong
who always knows where I am wherever I try to run
I can’t remember anything anyone taught me, Sir
most venerable teacher...
I know Sir
all of you have spoken to me
and my dad and my mom
and Old Madam Toothless Bong
and all my friends in class
I must study so I can go to the city and find work
but alI I want to do, Sir
most venerable teacher
is to play and eat and sleep when it is time
and one day, Sir
most venerable teacher
(I know you worry about me)
when I’m grown and big
I’ll make toys and I’ll sell them
and make money for me and my family;
and I’ll make all those sweets and dumplings
and feed my family...
so please, Sir
most venerable teacher
because I don’t like school
and I can’t remember anything
do not worry about me and let me go to the fields now
and I shall grow to be tall as the trees
and as rich as the rice fields...
________________ _________________________
poem based on painting: “Seodang”
(private elementary school in town)
by Kim Hong-do, Danwon (1745-1806)
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Bleeds Through: Bringer of Modern Clarity
What has the world come to today?
Gas is four dollars a gallon
Inflation is on the increase
Housing markets down
The war continues
And teachers are suffering job loss!
In grade school,
I thought my teachers were evil
They slept inside coffins in the schools basement
Only to rise when they heard my name called
It was a hell for me
When I turned sixteen
I realized how hard it was to be a teacher
With several students under them, three-hundred or more
Makes you wonder why governments are making it harder for them
The classes I suffered through in college taught me the skills I needed
I learned how to apply them later while observing
I admit, I wasn't perfect my first year of teaching
But I learned quick
Why ruin education?
Harder classes for students and less teachers to help
Sure make the classes harder, challenge the students!
Why challenge the teachers?
Twenty-five was my size of classes all my years of learning
Thirty plus is too much to handle effectively
To watch the progress of each through grades in elementary school is unrealistic
It conflicts with my psychology courses with watching only grades
A dying profession the teacher is
Optimism is my muse and savior
To teach the future leaders and core of the worlds work force
Is the only thing keeping me going
Thank you my students
'Good morning class, lets turn to page twenty-four in our math books! '
March 14,2012
poem by Ryan Collins
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Teacher Says, Teacher Goes
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
what you have done,
was clearly a mistake,
maybe it is,
time for a break.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
that you have been naughty.
That you have been quite foughty.
That you are being rude,
don't call teacher a dude.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smilies,
teacher know,
that you were making faces,
behind teachers back,
that you were throwing spitballs,
at the teacher's pet.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows.
So enough is said,
so now you know,
that whatever you do.....
Teacher says,
Teacher goes,
Teacher smilies,
Teacher knows
poem by Jasmine Aira
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What a Teacher!
My teacher is a person,
Who guides us all.
My teacher is a person,
Who teaches us all.
My teacher is a person,
Who hears me when I call.
My teacher is a person,
Who holds me when I fall.
My teacher is a person,
Whom I trust in all.
My teacher is a person,
Who, to me, is the greatest teacher of all!
If Johnny Only Had An Eight Inch Foot
I remember being in elementary school,
And on the very first day of fifth grade...
The teacher said to us,
'Always know this...
No question asked is a stupid one.'
We all looked at each other.
To then compete to ask,
Some of the most stupidest questions...
We could create she could not possibly answer.
Because we all lived in a low income project,
It was believed we were deprived of intelligence as well.
And we, then, as children...
Did not want to disappoint her expectations.
'If two shoes were on the wrong foot,
Would that be twelve or twenty-four inches missed...
If Johnny only had an eight inch foot? '
~I don't know.
Is there a Johnny in the classroom? ~
'No!
We only have Mikes and Bobs.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grade
We go to school and we learn
We go to school and we laugh
We go to school and we make friends
We go to school to know life
But parents are thinking something else
You should do better
You should do harder
It's just a year or two do your best
Are grade only part of us?
Does school offer us nothing more than grades?
School teach us how to laugh and cry
School is not only for grade
Please Mom Dad respect that
poem by Custous Angelus
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School Teacher
I seen you walkin' every day on your way, school
I seen you talkin' to the children
I seen you talkin' to, ooh yeah
School teacher, yeah
In the boiler beneath the building
And I'm so lonely, I'm lonely, yeah
Go to your parties, goin' to your meeting
You look so busy, are you busy? Yeah
Na na na na na, school teacher
The day goes on so fast, fast, fast
School teacher, yeah
Where ya gonna go last?
Oh yeah, oh yeah, yeah
I'd like to know ya, but I'm a nothin'
And you know somethin', I'd like to know ya, yeah
I'd like to hold ya, I'd like to love ya,
I'd like to know ya, I'd like to know ya, yeah
Oh yeah, oh yeah na, na, na,
School teacher please don't walk on past, past
School teacher, yeah
Where ya gonna go last?
Oh yeah, oh yeah, yeah
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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