Teachers Funny Poems | Examples
These Teachers Funny poems are examples of Funny poems about Teachers. These are the best examples of Funny Teachers poems written by international poets.
The only thing that lasts the test of time is Love.
Love for our family and
For our kin,
Love for our failures.
Even Love for our wins.
Love for the freedoms,
To do all that is right.
Love for all the beautiful colors,
The spectrum runs vibrant and bright.
Love for our teachers,
They give out their tools.
To guide young minds,
And solve life’s real issues and duels.
Love for our planet,
mountains, valleys, rivers, oceans, and streams.
The beauty of them holds so tight our wildest dreams.
Love for each other,
We have so much to give.
Love for the battles we fight for and eventually conquer and win.
Love for the journey,
Travelled in our life.
Love for our parents
Who give of themselves through all of our strife.
Love for showing others everything we can be,
Without feeling isolated, restricted, forced to run and flee.
And love that we give away,
May God bless this miracle each and every day.
A movie, oh wow, when one need not be Woke!
A girl was a girl, a bloke was a bloke.
I forget I was born when times were free.
Not under pressure of societal perversity.
We had jobs, were not weird and went to school.
We had nothing free, we were not governments’
tools.
Remember when schools were open and all stores, too.
We were not Covid,freaked-out-masked fools?
Nor were our teachers the government’s tools!
Our parents taught us ethics and rules!
We did not live on cold social platforms.
We lived and loved in freedom, that was the norm!
One could tell clearly, who was a girl or boy.
There were no “man- buns”,a welcomed joy!
Hope America returns to that sense of joy.
When it’s acceptable to be the sex you were born,
either girl or boy!
Notes: Ideas from the movie.
“Fast Times at Ridgemont High”, 1982
Sean Penn, Phoebe Cates, Jennifer Jason
Leigh.
Boys sprawled on the floor
intent on setting up their army men
The floor cold and inviting
The stare of a teachers eye
The curve of her smile at common play
So there’s a movie, The Rules of Engagement
that is *the internal rules or directives
among military forces
ROE defines the circumstances
conditions, degrees and manner
in which the use of force
or actions
which might be construed, as provocative
may be applied*
so I innocently ask a question kids
have no business understanding
nor have an answer for, nor
for that matter do I have
a comprehensive understanding
of statement
but I ask anyway
because such flops
often come into my brain
and out of my patootie
What are your rules of engagement?
Just then a grandfather leans into my ear
You want to know what the rules of engagement are?
You get that son of a b***ch, before he gets you!
He goes on to tell me he’s reading
Tea with Terrorists
and says you don’t
I think by then I had fallen off my chair
and was lined up with the army men
2/5/2021
Based on my true story!
*Between asterisks, definition obtained from wikipedia
there once was a thief from devin
whose teachers called him sir kevin
but his mom and dad
were indeed more sad
he worked eleven to seven.
Why me? I have to clean my room,
why does it have to be so soon?
Why me? I never get to play,
or have my friends over to stay.
Why me? I have to shout and scream,
if I’m to get some damn ice cream.
Why me? I blame the teachers so,
for every day to school I go.
Why me? I have to do homework,
a responsibility I cannot shirk.
Why me? I go to bed at seven,
now that is not exactly heaven!
Why me? I’m told I must stay clean,
if not, where exactly have I been?
Why me? I’m only ten years old,
but I know nothing, so I’m told.
Why me? They should be made to see,
that all I want is to be free!
The first few days of school the staff in our elementary building have introductory days
Before the cherubic, well-behaved, respectful darlings arrive.
This year we are doing something amazing. We are doing our three days
In the summer, so they have to pay us an extra $150 for each of these days!
I am getting my introductory speech ready. Last year I was quite a hit.
I do not want to let my fans down this year.
Everyone else sticks to a script like this “My name is Yah Bah Ho and I am a 2nd grade teacher.”
Last year I told them I was the campaign manager for Leah, our acting principal and I got great laughs.
This year we will have at least six new teachers or paraprofessionals who have not yet met me.
I plan to say “I am yah yah whee and I am the killer of those who want a complaint box.
If you are one of those, I urge you to go work somewhere else for we have no complainers here.
I killed them last year, and they are buried out back.”
But at least two will yell “She is the school counselor!”
Ruining it for me.
I can tell you their names now
But that might be rude.
Bags upon bags upon piles within piles of bags
Yes, teachers are the ultimate bag-ladies.
Rarely but occasionally a bag-man steps into our midst
But here at the elementary school it is usually women
Who drag in carrying bag upon bag upon pile upon pile upon bag.
I meet them at the door sometimes to help them out
Relieving them of two or three of their six to sixteen bags.
Some are filled with granite and ice sculptures.
I always try not to choose those.
One of our teachers works at two schools.
She has chains sticking out of her purse.
The blue chain is our school. I know better than to unbalance her.
I meet her, grab the blue chain, and unlock her door when I see her.
She is carrying six “big gulp cups” – the thirty-two ounces.
I had to give up soda pop five years ago.
Too much flatulence, and the children are
all at the wrong level for that.
We are wearing pajamas today.
We are super heroes, butterflies, unicorns, and mice.
We have slippers with long rat tails.
Mine are gorillas with red light-up eyes.
One or two have tails.
My zebra suit has lost his tail.
Pulled off long ago,
But do not worry. I am wearing matching underwear.
It is pajama day! Pajama day! Pajama Day!
I sing loudly and proudly, showing off my P.J.s
In throes of ecstasy.
The principal comes to a screeching halt when she sees me.
This was supposed to be for kids.
Yes, I know, I tell her.
Kids like me!
She smiles, and I know all is exactly as it should be.
This is a first grader’s day
I build a house! I build a house!
Another first grader chimes in.
It has a mouse! And maybe a louse!
Third first grader yells “Hey, that rhymes!”
“Chimes! Limes! Times! Crimes!”
By the time the teacher arrives back
from her twenty-second bathroom break
the whole room is afire with song.
You would think I taught music.
Did they finish the spelling test? She asks me.
“Test! Pest! Fest! Guest! Crest!” They all sing.
I ease out gently, waving, not daring to speak.
She is pompous, arrogant,
One sided. Espousing prophetic nonsense
Self-assured for no reason whatsoever
I listen to her internal volcano
Trying to conquer me in one of her landslides
Pushing all judgement aside,
I picture the grim reaper dragging her out by
her hair nodules,
Ah, the screaming! The wonderful way he would
plunk her in an undignified pick-up bed.
She is speaking of Republicans now.
Has she ever met one? Who made her the queen of explanations.
I will shatter her illusions when I help the reaper collect her.
Worst Economics teacher on the face of the planet.
Where is our real teacher?
Yes.
Substitute teachers get asked this hourly.
Maybe even every eight minutes.
Sometimes I give a teacher a bathroom break.
Especially a pregnant teacher.
They need it more often.
And are so grateful!
A spaceship got her, I tell them.
Smiling smugly.
Watching their faces.
Either change to laughter or tears.
I have learned the hard way
Kindergarten students have the most severe reaction.
Depending upon how well I like their teacher I either
Say it or not say it.
Knowing that half of them will be sobbing when she returns.
This is how a first grader’s day goes.
Six of them are at a table playing with Legos
Which is kind of the new less-messy playdough of today.
They are singing, of course, being happy.
“I’m building a house! I’m building a house!”
“Mine has a mouse! Mine has a mouse!”
“I have a rat in mine!”
“Hey, that is a rhyme!”
“Is not!”
“Is too.”
The competition is on.
“I have two rats in my house!”
“I have three rats in my house!”
“I have four rats in my house!”
The competition is on.
“I have five rats!”
“I have six rats!”
Always in order, for this is the first grade pattern.
"Miss Stokes, what do you think Pip was thinking?"
Uh-oh. I possibly should not have pretended to be my twin today.
I am taking her classes, pretending I am sick, rather than she.
This is 7th grade English, and I have not even heard the word
Great Expectations because my twin hates English as much as I
despise math.
In my English class we are tearing sentences apart and doing boring tree things out of them.
Um....
"I think I have to go to the bathroom!" I yell, clutching myself, running out of the classroom.
My classmates laugh.
Some have been laughing through math and science too.
They all know which twin I am.
It is only the teachers who cannot tell us apart.
I return to see a pop quiz face down on my sister's desk.
The first question is about Pip with enough space to write
sixteen paragraphs.
I begin cautiously.
"Pip is a wonderful dog," I write.....
A boy couldn't get his boots on
At the end of the preschool day
The teachers tugging and pulling,
Was hard, but she got them to stay
The boy then said, "These aren't my boots!"
With a frown she held back a scoff
Then again tugging and pulling
She managed to get them back off
The boy said, "Mommy said wear them,"
"They belong to my brother Ben"
Shaking her head with a grimace
She tugged and pulled them on again!
She felt a little like screaming
But she managed a smile instead
She asked, "Where are your mittens then?"
"I put them in my boots!", he said!
Another poem about the 4th Graders.
They outsmart us almost every day, every step of the way, and they are taller,
They program computers, and when we talk, their computers do holler.
They jump on our toes, and they hold us close to their faces.
They refuse to take a seat, and they stand in our faces.
They are too savvy to work, and they eat all of our food.
They tell us they will not do it, which puts us in a mood.
They study up on the internet how to get a teacher fired.
We do not tell this to the new teachers, until they are hired.
They say bad things about us, and they make fun of our teeth.
They text each other during math, hiding their phones underneath
Their hoodies which they are not supposed to wear, but they refuse to take off.
If you know some fourth graders, you know they will make fun of you and scoff.
We get out of their way when we see them march down the hall,
They are the fourth graders so big, bad and tall.
We are the teachers, and we are terrified of their fits.
They are the fourth graders, who scare us out of our wits.