Best Educationschool Poems


My School Dinner

I looked forward to my school dinner
While I was at school
The teachers made us stand in a line
You see that was the school rule.

As I took my dinner plate
And walked down the line
The sight of all the lovely food
I wished it was all mine.

There was steak pie and carrots
Mashed potatoes too
The dinner lady looked at me
And said this one is for you.

I walked back to the table
With a big grin on my face
I would eat every little bit
I didn't leave no waste.

Then there was puddings
wow, wasn't that a treat
There was spotted dick and treacle tart
As much as I could eat.

The meals were free we had at school
Because Mum and Dad was poor
And if we put our hands up
We could ask for more.

Yes, all those school dinners
I remember very well
Especially those gorgeous puddings
They made my belly swell.
Form: Rhyme

Professors of the School of Hard Knocks

Some people are of the belief, that teacher come from one place
From a school or university, with degrees all over the wall
Know great big fancy words, recites Shakespeare
With IQ's a mile high, that would put most to a disgrace
When in reality, have no common sense at all
Have read all the books and can pass any test that might appear

Which is all fine and good, but there is a limit to everything
Like a preacher needs to practice what he preaches after a sermon
Like a teacher, should be able to use what he teaches in the field 
If they cannot, all that knowledge doesn't mean a thing
Or he did not learn from his lesson
Therefore not much in his overall yield

I have been to a university and have a degree
It is just a piece of paper, not sure where the diploma is at
Vietnam War was going on and seemed like a good thing at the time
It was BS and so was the degree
Their version of ranching did not fit under my cowboy hat
But were ever so happy to take every nickel and dime

My best teacher have been old hobos and old cowboys
The ones that rode the rails and have been on a bronc or two
Knowing quitting time is when the job is done, not punching time clocks
Not saying a word for days at a time of making Saturday night noise
Working with what they had and doing what they had to do
THE REAL PROFFESSORS OF THE SCHOOL OR HARD KNOCKS
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

College Bound(The Education Game)

Next week I am college bound
 An education is what I seek
Further knowledge to be found
 In my quest I will not be meek.

School days for me has long since passed
 For out of school I became a mother
On my list education became last
 For me the choice was none other.

These are not the days of yesteryear
 No having fun and going to school dances
For failure is what I fear
 So no time for silly romances.

Time to study hard and long
 College professors will take no excuse
For homework being late or how an answer is wrong
It will still be my neck in the noose.

This time around there is no marching band practice
 All my spare time devoted to study
I may seem prickly  like a cactus
 But no time for me to be a buddy.

Time to buckle down and move ahead
 No longer with my high school sweetheart
No more dragging feet full of lead
 Time to give my life a brand new start.

No more jobs...I desire a career
 My heart beats double time
But please do not jeer
 School at my age is not a crime.

Bring on English and Math
 Sorry my dear dear friends
I am following a new path
 Time lost with them... will later make amends.

Time for the thinking cap
 No worries of being a fool
Even though there is a huge time gap
 Since the days of high school.

Knowledge is power
 Education is key
No need to be dour
 Law is the field for me.



For John Loving III Education game...Nara Shevanna you are next dear
Form: Quatrain


Then and Now

High School Graduation Night, after all those years
Suit and tie, cap and gown, the long last sheep skin
After that night, we all seemed to have scattered like a covey of quail
That night we were off to the river for a lot of beers
State Foot Ball Championship that year was a big win
The teachers wanted to get rid of some of us, they would not let us fail

Some married early with kids, then grand kids came along
Most got a divorce and then some did not care
A few went to the military, others to college
And some just went wrong
Some went to the School Of Hard Knocks for their knowledge
I hope to all life turned out fair

One was a banker, one a welder, some could not decide
Jackie is in Germany, Mark is in a little town outside of Brimingham
Bruce just got out of Rehab, Joe is out there some where
Steve, God rest his soul committed suicide
Billie went to the Navy, a lot got wounded in Veitnam
Never did hear what happened to Blair

They have a class reunion every ten years or so
It can be a time to be happy or real sad
Everyone has to wear a name tag and that is a good thing
Like a blind date, so you just don't flat know
But what the Hell, remember all the good times we had
Then and now, what made the school bell ring
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Curriculum

O teachers pack up and go to bed
The brain is sizzled in their head
Reality disagrees with what is said
The living are not better than the dead

Do you still sing when you are paid
And skip in your works success
Can you convince them you are unafraid
For new fomenting wilderness?

How you furnish them for commerce and trade
And slot them as the market call
You traffic them money for their grade
And no blanket for their fall.

Things are not the same as yesterday
A wiser generation rise
They know the things we hide away
The fire brims their eyes.

O teachers let our children be children just
Once more, give them room to play
Unsaddle them from the hampers of trust
That upon their young lives weigh

The commercial concerns corners  them so
Early, they have no lattitude to think
Liesure is room for a child to grow
The pressuring school made most shrink

O teachers school them beyond classrooms
Take to the mountains to explore
Challenge them to surive where icicles loom
Let them frolic on a sandy shore

And create temporal monuments of love
Here in nature is the school
That the best in the worst of us prove
Guide them with trust as a tool.
Form: Quatrain

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