Graders Poems - Poems about Graders

The child is eight, and full of vigor He was drumming on his desk I knew in a few seconds I would have six drummers Trying to outdrum each other, so I called him to me He came right over What’s up? Where did you learn to drum? My dad was a drummer In a band? head nod. That is interesting! He nods, excited, thrilled. He sings...

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Their feet are not petite. They are huge. No hiding or sneaking. No subterfuge. Fifth graders' feet are as big as boats. Where is the drink me anecdote? Clown shoes for them might be too small. If I had their feet, I would never fall. Preservatives have bulked them up so big. Here is be tiny juice, please take a swig....

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Young school graders are so naughty yet innocent Talking, fidgeting and playing in almost all events They run in and out of the room up to their greatest energy Behave well when rewarded with points, stars or candy. Young graders are so naughty yet they’re all darling They hug and kiss while telling us the sweetest thing Once we turn...

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I hear loud clamoring and yelling. It sounds like a rumble in the school hallway. I know it is the older students. The young ones do not dare. YOU’RE FIRED! Someone yells. You’re going to jail! says another voice. Lots of snickering and laughing. Maniacal giggling. It is not this funny. Joy in the hallway because it is Friday. Kindergarteners are on the other...

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The noise level is ridiculous. Students are turned in their seats; a no no during a pandemic. Rooster noises waft through. We don’t know where they come from, due to the masks. There is a Soprano’s scream, some stomping. We catch these students; we can see their shoes. Dilbert stands up and wiggles his bottom. He is in fourth grade, and never...

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We are the eighth graders the mighty mighty eighth graders Their mantra is loud and confident, a battle cry. They sound proud and ready to face the day. They are gathering a crowd of eight graders now. They are an excited, jubilant happy mob. We are the eight graders, the mighty mighty EIGHTH GRADERS! Their first day in high school, and...

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Seven first graders with their mute buttons on. Not knowing what to do when I ask them to unmute themselves. This is a friendly lunch bunch where they are allowed to talk. Not like the rest of their day when they are on mute unless called on. One begins and suddenly they all begin. Talking at once, like kids...

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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...

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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...

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Has anyone seen the fourth graders lately? They arrive in public built in full grown men and women foundations wearing adult shoes in sizes eight, nine and ten. They make me feel dwarfish, not petite, since I weigh more now than I did when I delivered children, but I weigh more than most of them. I know three who are...

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i WONDER IF I SHOULD WANDER THE WOODS I’m talking to you about a young white boy wandering bad neighborhoods You never warned me about the wolves in the woods You simply walked me to the middle and you left without a word and You didn’t tell me how to wage a war without armaments, or an army...

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