Teacher School Poems | Examples
These Teacher School poems are examples of School poems about Teacher. These are the best examples of School Teacher poems written by international poets.
remember childhood
some ate glue others cut hair
dangerous mixture
dull safety scissors
elmers glue bottles, glitter
tattered valentines
overwhelmed teacher
in sticky situations
over running sink
school
classrooms
halls echo
teacher shapes futures
chalk dust drifts throughout time
teacher's heart sparked eager minds
“my classroom days still warm my heart.”
When math class starts, stress will rise,
"I’m no good at math" glows up in our head,
You see rising panic form in our eyes,
Inner chat takes over instead.
But you take the "not now, not never", self-talk—
The labels we use when we're lost—
And show us how to pause, take a walk,
Where "failure's" a bridge to be crossed.
You guide us through the work on the board,
These mistakes are how we can learn.
A growth-filled room of learning to think,
Worry dies as good thoughts return
It was never about the X or the Y,
But how we speak to our thoughts at our desk;
You teach our minds a healthy reply,
Make our problems seem like a quest.
Little Heisenberg was insecure.
His mother said he could never be sure.
With his lunch pail and his short pants,
nobody thought he had a chance.
He tried to measure with his thumb,
at once, position and momentum.
The teacher said to this slow learner,
"Want to see the principal Werner?"
On his finger, an electron spun,
as he said, "that's already done".
streaks of white
raining or snowing?
not apparent yet
the grass begins turning white
a cheer goes up
the second graders erupt in laughter
SNOW!
no one hears the math lesson now
High school math class, November Twenty Second Nineteen Sixty Three:
the news had just broken from Dallas.
The teacher stands at the blackboard demonstrating
a geometric theorem; chalk clicking white against black
as she works through the meticulous Euclidean logic
with tears running down her face
Sometimes life itself writes a poem.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Six plus three is eight
School is really great
Two plus five is nine
It’s never been this fine
One times one is four
My teacher I adore
Math comes to me so easily
~ Why’d I get a ‘B’
Taunted by luxury, a life of ease.
I struggled to utter the words, “sir, please”?
I’d become distraught by my circumstance.
I saw no way alone; I could advance.
I knew the time in my life had now come,
To lose my ego, ask help from someone.
With all my money, I’d still have to ask,
Or accept my failure at this one task.
With money and self my only allies,
Having no solution was a surprise.
Sometimes our dreams may require another,
Like a friend, stranger, sister, or brother.
With my deepest desire, I long to teach.
Without another, it’s out of my reach.
I'm at my keyboard as I remember
a long ago dawning of September.
Who would have thought that a once youthful lad
would encounter summer's end and be glad?
He enjoyed all the freedom and the play,
given a boy on each extended day.
But now, was ready to return to school,
a sentiment not oft' considered cool.
To see the posted list, to school he raced,
to find out in which class he would be placed.
and know - would he get the nicest teacher,
or the one like a black lagoon creature.
BACK TO SCHOOL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In August, young Sam felt quite cool,
with a backpack, he headed to school.
He packed up some peanuts,
and a few silly musical cuts,
in his lunchbox then thought, “Aren’t I a jewel?!”
His classmates all chuckled and cheered,
as he whispered, “I’m ready, don’t fear!”
With a pencil in paw,
he scribbled with awe,
“Math’s nuts! Let’s eat lunch, I declare!”
The teacher, the scholarly Miss Owl, hooted,
“Pay attention, Sam, or to office you’ll be booted.”
But he daydreamed of the oak trees,
and the buzzing of sweet honeybees,
while plotting his next acorn loot.
Half past summer, two months till fall,
boredom, bullies; teacher neglect.
sandcastles, encase, be my pall!
Half past summer, two months till fall.
when school bells toll, tenderfoots bawl—
sun's embrace, we'd warmly collect.
Half past summer, two months till fall,
blackboards, bullies; teacher regret.
Provoking her is not easy to do
She’s been teaching children since fifty-two
Spanking was the norm back in the day
I still like to use it she will often say
Alas times have changed, children now play
Wasting their time each and every other day
Ridiculous she said when she finally retired
Just months before she may have been fired.
I was going to become a teacher
I thought it was my calling
I was young and thought it best
to go to university straight out of high school
before I'd go to teachers' college
Well... things did not go as planned
for better or for worse, who knows
I got sidetracked ended up taking a job
education got shelved for longer than expected
So I worked and launched a modest career
No guidance maybe no brains ~ who knows
But in the end I realized the truth ~
if you don't choose, life chooses for you
Go for your dreams or risk living with regrets
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Chalk
White powder rock.
Just 45 minutes on the clock.
Teacher is the tool.
The chalk is the writer.
Many lesions, many words.
White dust across the black board.
Erase to smudge.
Chalk re-writes discipline.
Learn as much as you can.
Let poetry begin.
Refining thoughts.
Lost time writing in cursive.
White limestone,
To a soft smoked poem
Young Bobby Tucker chats the whole day through
His teacher said, “That's all you ever do.
Today is geography,
what you can do for me
Is form a sentence using ‘Katmandu’
“I’m pretty certain you won’t have a clue
But I would like an answer out of you.”
“Well, Batman don’t chase mice,”
Bobby said in a trice
“But you can bet your life that Katmandu.”