En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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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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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Smokin In The Boys Room

(talk)
Did you ever seem to have one of those days
When everyone seemed to be on your case
From your teacher all the waydown to your best girlfriend
Well, that used to happen to me all the time
But I found a way to get out of it
Sittin in the classroom thinkin its a drag
Listening to the teacher rap--just aint my bag
When two bells ring you know its my cue
Gonna meet the boys on floor number 2
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Teacher dont you fill me up with your rules
Everybody knows that smokin aint allowed in school
Checkin out the halls makin sure the coast is clear
Lookin in the stalls--nah, there aint nobody here
My buddies sixx, mick & tom
To get caught would surely be the death of us all
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Teacher dont you fill me up with your rules
Everybody knows that smokin aint allowed in school
Put me to work in the school bookstore
Check-out counter, and I got bored
Teacher was lookin for me all around
Two hours later you know where I was found
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Teacher dont you fill me up with your rules
Everybody knows that smokin aint allowed in school
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Teacher dont you fill me up with your rules
Everybody knows that smokin aint allowed in school
One more time
Smokin in the boys room
Smokin in the boys room
Teacher I aint foolin around with your rules
Everybody knows that smokin aint allowed in school

song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Slipped Away

Good morning son
It's off to school you go
Mom's gone to work you know
Mom when are you coming home
There's a bank robbery that's going on
Ooh this very morn
Mom's gone to wrok for sure
Mom when are you coming home
Officers the bank is being held
By two gunmen that don't mean well
Mom's on the job can't you tell
Mom when are you coming home
Mom when are you coming home
To see your son
Daughter don't be a policeman
Please be a school teacher instead
You're so good with the children
Mom when are you coming home
Teacher please excuse these boys from class
Their mother gone from a gunshot blast
Another cop shot down on patrol
Mom when are you coming home
Mom when are you coming home
To see your son
The gangsters killed our mother dead
All is lost from our family
They tried to save our mom in vain
She drowned in blood and she was not saved
The bank is open and the robbers jailed
And mom won't be coming home
The way they run their world so wrong
How can us brothers get along
Mom when are you coming home

song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The secondary school announced the result of a list of successful candidates

Went down to the playground, principal had a talk.

Walked in a hard step, took a deep breathe.

Our class teacher gave us the result paper,

Everyone was silent,

No any voice, No any noise,

I can only hear thousand of breathing sound.

Hold tightly, ready to open,

3...2...1...,3...2... I can’t,

I am not brave enough to open it.

It was going to be ok.

I think for a while,

Closed my eyes,

My excitement came to my heart, but sadness was waiting for me.

I slowly opened the paper finally gradually.

Opened my eyes slowly,

Wahl! My tears went through my both eyes.

I don’t want to go to this school,

I was thinking, oh well… I can apply for another school, may be it worked.

My class teacher was convincing me to go to this school,

My mother was thinking the solution for me.

I went out to the school door, took a slowly walk,

I really didn’t know what I can do,

Worrying, deeply anxious and struggling,

I tried to think about the advantage of this school.

Yes! I pick this school. I‘ll do well!

poem by Jenkin Tsui
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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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My grandmother was a teacher, my sister was a teacher, my daughter was a teacher and is now a superintendent in northern California, and my son-in-law is a high school principal. I am surrounded.

quote by Loni Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Old Female Teachers With Poloroid Cameras Can Catch You Smilin' Surprised.

I once had a substitute teacher with hair of blue...
This fact that i tell to you remains factually true.

One time other i had a female home room teacher with a hairry mustached upper lip...
It gifted her with a five o'clock shadow just under her noses tip.

I once attended a classroom inside a make-shift circle of cabinets
and book shelves and a portable black board.

All this shelving like wagon trained formed inside a school's gymnasium basketball court...
This female teacher, when after we've misbehaved.

T'would fastly whip out her Poloroid Land Camera...
So that she could inform our parents when we were bad, with a
split second visual report.

She was a party pooper this female teacher of ours...
She was a poor sport and also was kind of fat and olden and even
real tiny like short.

So the next time you think that you always have a bad school day...
You could be enrolled in my old alma matter and that of your valuable freedom, you'd have to give up and with pay.

Now you do know what kind of matter this truly does be....
No more free days-only more to be shortly real crappy.

Is that a bad school day? ...
You bet your ass you might kind of say.

poem by Michael Gale
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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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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
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My first day in school

More than half a century ago,
the Monsoon showers had just brought relief from the sweltering summer,
just when I was dreaming of playing soccer whole day outdoors,
My Dad decided that I have to attend an elementary school.

I was dragged a mile by my older brother to my new school,
It would be my favorite Durga Temple converted into a school,
My dreams of a class with benches and chairs just vanished,
As we were sitting on the floor in open partitioned classrooms of the school.

I thought I would get a nice colorful uniform to wear to school,
but it looked like that the dress code was a futuristic dream,
At least every class had a black board bigger than my slate,
the teacher had a duster whereas I had to wipe the chalk with my hand.

The fear of some burly kids and nostalgia of home made me sad and homesick,
I could not stop crying and asking my teacher to let me go home.

I still remember the teacher with big black cane,
every time I cried to go home, I got a whack on my palm with his cane,
I could not stop crying, he would not stop whacking,
till I was sent in a distant corner for breaking the class rule.

Kneeling down in the corner, I dreamt of Mom and home,
I found comfort in the memories of joyous Durga Puja days,
I wished the Goddess would come alive,
and pierce the hands of the teacher with her big spear.

Finally the Tiffin time heralded the temporary recess,
the teacher came down and helped me open my Tiffin can,
He asked me to eat while he wrote something on my slate,
He hoped that it would keep me interested in his school.

After I finished my food, he handed my slate,
He had drawn a picture of a big smiling cat with whiskers and big tail,
He asked me to draw the cat on the other side of the slate,
I was so happy drawing the circles and lines whole afternoon,
I forgot I had a rough first day in school.

poem by Jay P Narain
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Principal's Office

Now as I get to school I hear the late bell ringing,
runnning through the halls, I hear the glee club singing,
and as I get to the office I can hardly speak,
cause it's the third late pass that I got this week,
so to my first class I run and don't walk,
all I hear is my sneakers and the scratching of chalk,
and as I get to the room I hear the teacher say,
Mr. Young I'm very happy you could join us today,
I try to sit down so I can take some notes,
but I can't read what the kind next to me wrote,
and if that wasn't enough to make my morning complete,
as I try to get up, I find this gum on my seat,
so with the seat stuck to me, I raised my hand,
and said, exscuse me but can I go to the bathroom, maam?
the teacher got upset, and she screamed out no,
it's off the principal's office you go,
Verse 2:
12 o'clock comes with mass hysteria,
everybody rushes down to the cafeteria,
picked up my tray to have Thursday's lunch,
and as I tried the apple sauce, I heard it crunch,
I'm running up the stairs with my front tooth broken,
the nurse just laughed, and said you must be joking,
I looked up at her with a smile on my face,
no joke 'cause my front tooth is out of place,
so I walked to school with ice on my lip,
the nurse's late pass like a gun on my hip,
my books are real heavey, I'm walking, I'm dragging,
ain't no school lunch next week, I'm brown-bagging it,
forget class, I'm a shoot some ball,
with the late pass I got no trouble at all,
but then the nurse walks up and says what do you know,
it's office to the prinicipal's office you go
recess
Verse 3:
passing notes is my favorite pass time,
I can't wait to find a girl to pass mine to,
to express my feelings,
give me a week B, and the girl' be dealing,
now one young lady was looking at me,
I said hi my name is Marvin, known as Young MC,
but then the ball rang, and the teacher came in,
and that's when the game of passin notes would begin,
I wrote the first note, told her she was fine,
and I hoped that the two of us could spend some time,
she wrote me back and told me you're fine too,
I'd love to go on a date and spend some time with you,
so then I sat there reeling, and looking at the ceiling,
words can't express the way that I was feeling,
then I though to myself, the sure way to get her,
is to write another note, oh yes, a love letter,
when I finished the note, it was ready to pass,
the teacher took it, and read it right in front of the class,
she read it word-by-word and line-by-line,
and everybody who was laughing was a friend of mine,
even then my girl was laughing, and it was too late,
for me to write another note 'cause there would be no date,
the teacher looked at me, and I said I know,
it's off to the principal's office I go,
yo, you think this is bad, wait til I get my report card

song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Angelic Me

My teacher told me to behave
But behaving’s what I never craved
She thought I acted too outlandish
Just being me was too out-Stan-dish

The girl’s pigtail in the inkwell soaked
How it got there was my little joke
I whistled when teacher turned her back
Music’s what our classroom lacked

To the principals’ office I was sent
It clearly became a daily event
She told him I was rude and frightful
Yet my friends in class thought me delightful

My mother when she came to school
He told her I was the classroom fool
She didn’t believe that awful man
Could say that of her angel Stan

Whistlers’ mother, she knew best
She knew her son was not a pest
So much to my teachers’ dismay
I was back in class the very next day

The inkwell reclaimed that girls’ pigtail
The teacher warned, but to no avail
Behind back whistles, once more the norm
Angelic me was back in form

poem by Stanley Cooper
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My Sweet School

School is where one learns,
Kowledge is what one earns,
Teachers, friends are a part of school,
Without them, a school, isnt a school,

A teacher's duty is to teach,
And a student's duty is to breach,
When parents get the complain,
The teacher's trust then, gets hard to retain,

Oh! It's recess,
But to her heart there is no access,
Boy tries to impress girl,
But oh! She's a knurl,

Recess is over and class has resumed,
Next exam, God! I am doomed,
I know I won't pass,
Coz I know Im a bass,

Walking back home in the evening,
It feels like my stress is lessening,
Im happy to be home,
Coz there is every place to roam,

Back to school, early in the morning,
I see it is snowing,
I'm back to a place of learning,
Knowlegde is what Im earning,

School is a source of knowlegde,
The best part in my life is being at this stage,
It includes everything,
And it lacks nothing,

Teachers, friends are a part of a school,
Without which a school isn't a school..............

poem by Sherbanu Molu
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A day of 1971

The school is three kilometers away.
Akmal was hastily walking towards the school as he was already late.
The school starts at midday.

Mother was insisting him on for long to go to the school.
But Akmal was little reluctant today.

He was experiencing something new in the whole surroundings.
His small psyche could not exactly guess what it was but something very strange was happening around him.
On his way to school Nepalda was chatting with some of his friends at a corner. Nepalda may be five to six years senior to Akmal.

Once Nepalda was Akmal’s house tutor.
Nepalda called Akmal, ‘Hey where are you going today? School? School is closed today. Don’t go’, declared he.

There was enough reason to believe Nepalda for Akmal. After all he was his teacher and he has a good reputation in the society. At least his parents consider Nepalda as a gentle young man.

When Nepalda was saying that the school is closed then he has no reason to proceed further. Yet to be sure he asked Nepalda, ‘Is it true? Our school is closed? ’
‘Yes, my boy. I am not joking with you. ’ Nepalda replied. Then he murmured, ‘Be careful. Go to home and remain in the home. Don’t come out. There may be some exchange of fire. We are ready….the army is advancing…we are ready to obstruct them…go home’.

Akmal understood nothing but he could guess that he has to return to home quickly.

It came to his mind that he did not do his home work today. So certainly he was going to be punished today if the school was open.

He was happy that the school is not open and today nobody will ask him to sit for study in the evening, he expected.

poem by Kazi Ahmed
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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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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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My Favorite Teacher

You helped me with math
You helped me with reading
Always there at your door with a friendly greeting
Oh how I will miss you!
I can not express how much I need you on a daily basis
You are so helpful
You are so kind
You are always there all the time
No longer a teacher but a companion
We had much fun in the classroom
Learning and shouting
And that's when it happened
A bond like no other
Not teacher to student,
But daughter to mother
You are the best
My sixth grade teacher
And I have to confess
You are my favorite
I will miss you so much
As the year ends
The time flew by
And we did not notice
But now as we stand here, two weeks away
I must say,
I was dreading this day.

poem by Laurena Rocks
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