Classroom Poems - Poems about Classroom

The walls lean in, murmuring secrets of weary days, while chairs sigh beneath tired bodies. Words from hollow lips strike like stones— they refuse to soften, echoing in empty corners. My lessons pulse with purpose, glowing faintly in the dust, each one breathes life into silent desks. They wait, expectant—hungry for curious eyes. Even the blackboard leans forward, eager to share every truth...

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Within the circle’s quiet pulse lies a deeper truth: when we shape our ways by kindness, trust takes root. The classroom holds a sacred space, where hearts find hope, and fears erase. Not just a room with desk and board, But a haven where the soul is restored. A whisper heard, a glance that sees— Each moment sown like sacred seeds. Mistakes aren’t...

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Walls soft as the sky, Seeds of courage gently sown— Mistakes are doorways, Voices bloom in laughter's light, Hearts grow wide, brave, and curious. ________________________________________________________________ Author’s Note: In this hidden grove, stumbles whisper secrets and questions hold unseen light. Find grace in shadows and hope in every hushed voice....

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Silence, silence—pin-drop silence, Commands the teacher's voice. Yet in the hush, the children scheme, Their whispers soft, their hearts rejoice. Even in silence, eyes convey The thrill of games at end of day. Their glances speak of plans anew, Of bonds they’ll strengthen as they play. With nodding heads and thumbs held high, Cute smiles flash, some gaps reveal. Twinkling eyes and brows that dance, Their...

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M-ovies A-s E-ntertainment A-re N-ormally N-eeded, E-ducating V-iewers I-n L-ife L-essons, A-s R-emarkable A-ctors S-how A-rtistry ©bfa052725 Monocrostic (Birthday of Mae Anne Villarasa) ...

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the greatest classroom I ever sat in was my mother's kitchen she said give what you want if you get it back stay if you don't leave she said you might not ever get a degree in law but you damn well better get a degree in people she said you cannot have an independent mouth and a...

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In December's chilling, silent air, Echoed a grief too great to bear, Empty chairs, where laughter sat, A nation's heart, forever flat. The books lay open, untouched, unread, Dreams were shattered, tears were shed, Small hands that held pencils bright, Now lost forever to the night. No words could heal the broken cries, No comfort soothed those weeping eyes, Yet in their courage, we must...

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This is a call to arms, not with guns, but with pens In the battleground of classrooms, where history pretends Textbooks are prisons, locking away truths untold Lessons are handcuffs, keeping minds on hold We're force-fed a diet of colonial lies Digesting distortions, our heritage dies But today we rise, we're breaking these chains Dismantling doctrines, rewiring our brains Cultural colonization, a virus...

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Well, teachers and students, I'll tell you: Education could have been smoother on the blackboard. It's had chalk dust in it, And eraser marks, And lessons half-learned, And minds with no answers written— Blank. But all the time We've been teaching on, And reaching milestones, And turning pages, And sometimes learning in the dark Where there ain't been no guidance. So folks, don't give up. Don't you close your...

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In dynamic classrooms Amid inquiry and exploration with my mind racing, in casual attire or rolled-up sleeves, With my hands on experimental apparatus, questions,...

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From the sacred centre of learning streams forth an irrepressible desire to overcome the ignorance between people. Education speaks to us through knowledge, a testament to human potential unleashed. The classroom communes through books, discussions, and discovery. Teaching, the ever-flowing fountain, reveals the secret of growth through question and answer, theory and practice. All learners long...

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In halls of learning, a vision unfurls, A canvas of hope for all boys and girls. Each thread a child, unique and bright, Woven together in wisdom's light. I dream of classrooms without walls, Where curiosity echoes through the halls. A place where every mind can soar, And no child's potential is ignored. Books that speak in many tongues, Songs of knowledge from many...

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In the echoing halls of third grade, he sits, a nine-year-old lad, master of the silent symphony, the classroom's perpetual farter. His seat, a throne of hidden thunder, each release a stealthy gust, an unseen hand that wafts through the air, invisible yet undeniable. The girl down the aisle, her eyes wide with wonder, a scientist in the making, studies his every move, curiosity alive in her gaze, as if decoding...

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Jump, thump, six graders jump from stone to pebbly stone. Chirp chirp the robin flies Across the sky alone. Crunch chunch the graveled feet, Sh. . . shoo, a breathy whisper, Hard, cold bench for a seat, Rough wood, perhaps a splinter. Puh, puh, puh, a boy spitting, Mosquito slap A girl is hitting. Scarlet leaves on willowly stem Dance in the crisp fall air. I hear a...

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Heart of my heart, here’s where ...

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