A Witch At Church After Service Meeting
I was extremely lucky
early in life at primary school
I had the misfortune of
being taught several years
in a row by an extremely
opinionated female teacher?
Her learned perception
all small boys were bad...
I was seated in a group
she never taught
never talked to
never answered
questions from...
only down spoke to
with insulting
condescending remarks.
I as example was destined
at later primary school
she enthusiastically
informed her entire class in
another rage anger fit...
was destined to be arrested
put in prison where I belonged
being of no use to society.
Years later she recognized me
at a church after service meeting
stared at me with loathing hate
obviously church was not
where I belonged in her scheme
of judgement cosmic certainties...
I pleasantly ignored her
having missed her prophecy
incarceration destination
by then I was a journeyman
accredited qualified tradesman
bonus a university degree
never was I a vindictive
child soul destroying teacher
voicing rage as she was...
I had been at primary dyslexic undiagnosed
remedial reading elementary rage taught
will not aid or remedy special needs students...
post graduate Diploma Of Teaching I studied
Students With Special Learning Needs
taught with patience empathy diverse skills heart...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Forget all that!
You know, I graduated with an HND, which is higher technical, para professional.
Then topped up to a science degree.
I then taught for about four years, after which I went back and trained to be a teacher proper.
After that i taught for a few years in London.
Not to mention the fact that I have a post graduate diploma in business.
No no no forget all that, forget all thaaaaat...but there's a job going on the till in Tesco's of you're up for it; how about that then?
poem by Mark Benniman
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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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Where they belonged
When I was in metric
(now grade twelve)
in the agricultural science class
an English girl took a chair
next to me
who had a secret crush
without getting
any attention from me.
I just wasn’t taken with her
and she was a little brash
and they lived
on the other side
of the railway tracks
and she had a reputation
of sleeping around.
When we studied
animal copulation
she acted as if
she didn’t really understand
and asked me some questions
which made me blush
and it was clear
that she had other plans instead.
Ignoring her didn’t help much
and heart broken she went to cry
on her sister’s shoulder
who was my class teacher
and taught me English
at the time.
We did an IQ test
(the first in my years at school)
and I scored only too well
and without really knowing
my personal circumstances
the teacher told the class
that I was lazy,
but much more than that
she marked my English grades down.
I didn’t know what had got into her
and in the second quarter
like a angel from heaven
a female inspector
(specializing in English)
visited the school.
She couldn’t understand
why my marks had slipped so much
and we had a very nice chat
where she demanded
all my English books and tests.
She graded everything again,
my grades took a hike,
the teacher was called in
and almost did the same
and after that
my grades were where
they belonged.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Teacher’s Day in India
Teacher’s Day in India is today-
Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan’s birthday;
A great educationist, Indian;
A former President of our nation;
A teacher par excellence;
An exemplary role-model to all.
Let’s celebrate this day
In a special way,
By remembering our teachers,
Who’d taught us all these years.
A teacher is a tutor;
A teacher is a scholar;
A teacher is a special friend;
A guide and philosopher
In students’ lives- a Godsend!
Our teachers are great minds;
Our teachers are rare finds;
Their love and precept binds
As students’ life-years winds!
God bless our teachers (dears):
God give them healthy years;
God meet their wants sans fears,
And make them mighty seers.
Like parents, he/she rears;
God rank them as great peers;
But keep them free from tears,
When their life’s end nears.
Dedicated most respectfully to
all our beloved teachers
on 5th September,2006
Copyright by Dr John Celes, India
poem by John Celes
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Duties Of A Teacher
The everyday duties of a teacher
Are as difficult as they can be,
Whether in an elementary or secondary school
Or whether the teacher is a he or she.
The teacher must possess a bundle of information,
A knowledge that will constantly shine,
And in addition must maintain class discipline
To keep all the students properly in line.
There are insurmountable number of questions
To be answered during every period of the day,
And test papers must be carefully graded when
The students leave and go merrily on their way.
The pleasures and encounters of an evening out
Are few and seldom to be socially shared,
Because the next day's lessons must have priority,
Be reviewed and lessons carefully prepared.
A dedicated teacher gets a personal satisfaction
In this cumbersome and timeless atmosphere.
The role of a teacher is vital in this complex world,
Preparing all students for a future career.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Being bilingual
There is something
in being bilingual
and when I grew up
we were forced
to take both
official languages at school
being English and Afrikaans.
It was another thing
to be taught maths in English,
when your home language is Afrikaans
and where I was taught in Afrikaans
up till then,
at a school that was
supposed to be
double medium
and to really struggle
with unknown terms
and not being able to comprehend
and to this day
I despise Mrs. Ritchie
who thought that I was stupid
and without the teacher caring
or being able
to teach in Afrikaans
I struggled along
but at university
a professor teaching
Algebra and Calculus
really did care
and taught me well.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Mother Nigeria Africa?
Mother Nigeria Africa,
Can a tree make forest?
Few out of dozens.
Man without woman,
Light without darkness,
Words without ears,
Say my prayers,
To a cherished countrywoman
A proud country in riches,
Unity in diversities says,
Saved prayers to save a nation,
To give Africa a voice.
Searched and found for love,
Criticisms and hatred engross mind each,
Where is a proud country Nigeria?
Deceits and deceived founds in final statement,
Mother Nigeria Africa?
Give a nation a voice,
Africans par say.
Remembered creche childhood,
Remembered primary beginning,
Remembered secondary lifestyle,
Remembered higher learning race,
Yet no love of countrywoman,
Mother Nigeria Africa?
Taught in primary one,
Taught in primary two,
Taught in primary three,
So and so in subsequent classes of a nation,
Yet no love of countrywoman,
Oh! mother Nigeria Africa?
Brought in love with them through,
Ate with them in love through,
Taught with them in love through,
Yet no love of countrywoman,
My songs,
Give Africa a voice,
Mother Nigeria Africa.
poem by Bunmi Orogun Samuel
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His Lowness Jason II the Turd
It gotta’ be rough to be a teacher now days.
So my sympathy goes out to Susan Graham,
A 58 year old elementary teacher who taught kindergarten in Yakima, Washington.
She taught a lot of kids throughout the years; but this she wouldn’t ‘handle’ anymore,
She found a piece of one of her students on the floor.
She picked it up and she sent his turd, in a paper towel, with him home, on the bus.
Susan called the father, Jason, at work to if he was aware of his son’s accidental spillage,
The father said he was aware and his son’s extra-clothes were in his backpack.
His wife made the putrid discovery,
Of S$#T.
Jason said,
'She found a clear plastic bag with a piece of fecal matter wrapped up in a brown paper towel with the note on it, '
Did the characters of Sesame Street have to deal with this situation?
The Count say “TWO”, “If you should go number TWO, put in the toilet,
Aw, Aw, Aw, ..”
Big Bird says “You must put your droppings on a statue not on a floor.”
Cookie Monster says “You make cookie, put in pot.”
One blogger wrote, of which I mostly concur,
Rather than keeping the child for detention,
The Blogger writes:
Kudos to this teacher.
The parents are responsible for teaching their child basic hygiene and potty training not the school system. Sounds like the parents and the brat (I don’t agree about that observation) don't believe they have any responsibility or know right from wrong. Give this teacher an award for not being politically correct and teaching the parents and the brat a lesson.
(4-23-09)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
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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 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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To My Most Beloved School-Teacher, Mr. B.E. Coates
Dressed in coat and suit and tie,
Anglo-Indian Teacher my;
Wearing shoes with shine always;
Tall in stature, meek, honest, Ayes!
Speaking English in great style;
Punctual, walking ev’n a mile;
Teaching subjects ardently;
A gentle-man seen, quite rarely!
He taught us English with great care,
Like how Englishmen would dare;
Its nuances, he laid thread-bare,
Pronouncing with Anglo-air!
He made the class so interesting;
Chiding mischief, not punishing;
A pious man who forgave fast;
Advising students till the last.
He was my class-teacher at times;
And read us poetry with rhymes;
He taught us Geography as well;
‘Be hard-working, ’ he’d always tell.
Because of him, I loved English,
And rose to levels, many wish;
He taught us Catechism too,
And say in life, ‘How do you do? ’
My teacher most-beloved was he;
He fanned my sparks of poesy!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-11-2007
Dedicated most lovingly to
Master BE Coates, CGMS, CBE
poem by John Celes
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Teacher, Teacher
Just when I thought I finally learned my lesson well,
There was more to this than meets the eye.
And for all the things you taught me, only time will tell,
If I'll be able to survive. Oh yeah.
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me all I need to know?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Or will I fall when you let me go? Oh no.
Am I ready for the real world, will I pass the test?
You know it's a jungle out there.
Ain't nothin' gonna stop me, I won't be second best,
But the joke's on those who believe the system's fair, oh yeah.
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me if I'm right or wrong?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
I wanna know what's goin' on, Oh yeah.
So the years go on and on, but nothing's lost or won.
And what you learned is soon forgotten.
They take the best years of your life,
Try to tell you wrong from right,
But you walk away with nothing. Oh Oh.
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me all I need to know?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Or will I fall when you let me go?
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me if I'm right or wrong?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
I wanna know what's goin' on, Oh
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Teacher, teacher, Ooh yeah.
Teacher, teacher
Teacher, teacher
~Adams, Vallance
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without A Drumroll Or A Cheering Audience
I was still in my early twenties,
When I felt I had earned my doctorate's degree.
After I had graduated from elementary school,
I had already received my 'bachelor's'.
I was taught to be accountable,
For every responsible action I made.
I did not have a childhood.
I had chores and responsibilities.
And had been a latchkey child by the age of 5.
That was before the innocence of children,
Were identified to be protected and realized.
I was taught to value independence....first!
I was still in my early twenties,
When I felt I had earned my doctorate's degree.
Married, divorced and a military veteran...
I knew my life had excelled through a course,
To experience early such maturity.
And that wasn't a choice!
But more like a marriage of enforcement.
And my tolerance for those who are ignorant is low.
Extremely!
Especially when I've seen people pull themselves up,
Out of places few would dare to go.
Without a drumroll or a cheering audience to encourage.
With so many today wasting their minds and time,
Debating their entitlements while sitting on wide behinds...
Expecting a delivery of some kind they did not earn.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To a Teacher of Teachers (in Paediatrics)
I, your pupil know your worth;
I, a teacher know your girth;
I, a doctor know your birth
Gave doctor-teachers, mirth!
I, a colleague can world tell,
‘You had made your students swell;
You had taught indeed so well;
You had tolled the teaching-bell! ’
We, your students thank you Doc;
You were key to our world’s lock;
When we did your door ev’r knock,
You gave ken unmatched by clock!
You, a star in our life’s sky;
You were one no one could buy;
You had made our minds so high;
This is truth, whole truth, not lie!
You opened world of children;
You made Paediatrics, heaven;
You taught craft and art woven;
You now make us look even!
We thank you from depths of heart;
We are grateful for our start;
We know not the words to draft;
We hope you must never part!
“You were a doyen;
You were a giant;
You were so erudite
Teacher of Teachers! ”
May God grant you many years;
May God give you peace, not tears;
May God take away your fears;
May you live happy with dears!
(Fondly dedicated to our most beloved
‘Teacher of teachers’, Prof. Dr. M. Ramasamy A.B. (Ped)
Masonic Medical Center, CBE
By Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D., Dean, IRT PMC, Perundurai
On behalf of the Medical Fraternity on Teacher’s Day
at Lotus Hospital on its 11th Anniversary, Erode
Copyright by Dr John Celes 31-08-11
poem by John Celes
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The School Of Nature
To be a poet
it is essential to be a student
of school of nature
to complete this study
one life is not sufficient
but has to take many births
its language and grammars are too tough
no university can meet it up
in the school of nature
the languages of stars, planets & all creatures
are taught for which you have to choose a teacher
God is the super teacher to teach you
in the school of nature.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Rise Up To A Positive Call
Teenagers!
hardcore flow;
primary,
To love him or hate him.
Mercedes GLK!
The colouring book,
And like Mary's child;
But, you can love her or hate her.
Freaky boys and girls!
Guns and roses;
Of the psyche,
Like the teacher's book,
Like the teacher's back,
Like the teacher's look,
Like the teacher's words,
Like the teacher's poetry!
Between us;
And like the battle of the bands! !
But, rise up to a positive call.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Gunface
Gonna go downtown
Gonna get my gun
Gonna dress real sharp
Gonna beat my drum
I ain't gonna lie
Gonna walk so slow
Gonna talk just right
And my diamond ring
Gonna shine so bright
I ain't gonna lie
I've got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life
And I got my ears
And I got my eyes
And I got my narks
And my alibis
I won't waste your time
You made one false move
You made one mistake
When the juice is squeezed
That's the way it breaks
You'll pay for your crime
Your tongue lickin' way out of place
I'll rip it out
I'll stick a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life
I taught her everything I taught her how to dream
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to scream
I taught her all she knows
I taught her how to lie
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to cry
And you cause me hurt
And you cause me pain
And you turned the tap
On my burning rage
And I can't put it out
Gonna leave no sign
Gonna leave no trace
Gonna leave this town
In a state of grace
Give me the power
I got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna lie
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay for the crime
I taught her everything
I taught her how to speak
I taught her all she knows
I taught her how to eat
I half invented her
And now she acts so chic
I taught her everything
But now she's obselete
I taught her everything
How to read and write
I taught her all she knows
She was a neophyte
I taught her everything
I loved to watch her grow
I taught her everything
And now I want to see her go
I taught her everything
I got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I'll put a gun in your face
You're playing with your life
I taught her everything
I taught her how to cheat
I taught her all she knows
She was so indiscreet
I taught her everything
I taught her how to lie
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to cry
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Bridges To Babylon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Farewell
My farewell is a long one, I just have a lot to say.
Farewell to all of my teachers, you have taught me well.
You have taught me to grow with the world and with society.
You have taught me everything I know, and I say 'Thank you! '
My farewell goes to all of my friends,
You have been great throughout the years.
You have taught me a lot about life.
You have been there through the hatred and the love,
Through the ups and the downs,
Through thick and thin,
You have proved yourselves worthy of being true friends.
And I just want to say, 'I love you all! '
My Farewell goes to my parents.
You have also taught me well.
You are the ones who taught me how to credit others that I love and care
about. You sat with me in the doctors office through those painful shots.
You have been through hell and back with me, literally.
You have seen me grow from a little girl to the woman that I am today.
Father, you are the one who is going to give me away at the alter someday.
And Mother, you are the one who is going to help me find the perfect dress for my wedding and you are the one who is going to help me prepare for it.
You are the ones who I can trust with my life and I just want you to know that I am grateful and that I will love you with all my heart.
I will never forget you!
My farewell goes to Auburn High School.
I don't care how much I have said that I hated this old Brick building, I have come to be comfortable with it.
And I just want to say,
'CONGRATS CLASS OF 2010! WE MADE IT THROUGH! ! !
poem by Shannon Monroe
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for My Teacher
I knew I was alive, ‘cause I felt myself breathing
I knew I could walk, ‘cause I saw my legs moving
I knew I had feelings, ‘cause I could pity myself so much
For everything I was doing, I had done,
I would do that wouldn’t matter as such.
And then you came, my teacher
Introduced myself to me
Showed me, like every creature,
How different I could be.
And made me feel special
No cursed any more,
Believe in the power of my dreams
The limitless potential in my core.
Life, black and plain white
That used to be
Now with your eyes
I could see the red, the blue and the green.
And you taught not just “ABC”
But also the perspective with which the world to see
And you taught not just “123”
But also the ways to set ourselves free.
I don’t just breathe now teacher, I live.
I don’t just walk now teacher,
I run for my wants.
I don’t pity myself anymore teacher,
I’m proud of myself.
I don’t just respect you teacher,
I owe myself to you…….
poem by Jaya Mishra
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Survive Adult Life
Anastasia Krupnik asked open-ended questions
doing a project on her career, wanting to become
a bookstore owner to sell her dad’s poems; today
we did open-ended questions in French Class for
grown-ups - over the hill and almost lying in our
coffins already -
How to use open-ended questions reverberated in
sepulchral tones as we studied arranging a meeting
on interior decoration and preferred mode of trans-
portation - my favourite subjects - my brain, never
willingly cooperating, exploded; I managed to ask
closed questions
About paintings and cars, proving myself village
idiot again - flabbergasted to know we still have
to study the seeming preserve of primary school
students - proving that reading children’s books
is the only way to survive adult life; so bizarre -
mere words
Fail to express the absurdity of deciding what
to ask spoilt officials during an imaginary
meeting with disgruntled French civil
servants…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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