I’m sitting down upon a chair that is brown
Trying to listen to my teacher who is talking
With girls on my sides whose face is frowning
Cause my teacher says a story that seems so boring.
I don’t know what he really utters about
Cause he speaks of spiritual matters which we’re in doubt
We’re supposed to be tackling about a relevant topic
But it seems he talks about someone’s life being tragic.
My mind wants to grasp and fully absorb
The lessons and values he shares and reports
But unfortunately there is a barrier like an orb
Protecting my intellect from his talks of all sorts
With my fellow students we are waiting
For Miss Registrar to make that bell ringing
Because our eyes seems going downfall
To the realms of darkness with the speed of a waterfall
That’s not my elephant, the second graders said to their teacher.
Elephants are too big; they’re not our kind of creature.
We like fierce alligators with thick-green armored scales;
long pointed teeth, strong jaws, and spiked whipping tails.
We like chimpanzees that live high in forest trees
that swing from branches and hang by their hairy knees.
What good is a flop-eared elephant who recites
the whole “Constitution” and “Bill of Rights”?
The teacher looked puzzled; somewhat perplexed,
she wasn’t quite sure of what to say next.
Elephants never forget the teacher returned;
their huge brain stores everything they’ve learned.
Ella the elephant just stood there in a striking pose.
Well, can you suck spaghetti up with your nose?
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I wanted to be a writer
When I was just a young teen
But I was so incredibly shy
And kids can be so mean.
Then a new teacher came along.
He had such a different view.
I no longer felt embarrassed
By the writing that I'd do.
He made me feel I had a gift
And that it should be shared.
To him I admitted my hopes
And I felt that he really cared.
Mr. Sowden encouraged extra work,
To write about whatever we wanted.
So I wrote and wrote and wrote some more.
The words just flew, undaunted.
My grade ten English teacher
Read my work out loud
And winked when the class applauded,
For the first time I felt proud.
I never signed my real name.
The class didn't know it was me
But my work garnered admiration,
On display for all to see.
That was the year I learned that
What I wrote was pretty good.
I just needed time for confidence to grow
And that, Mr. Sowden, understood.
He made us see the written word
In a way that made us aware.
So I would like to thank him,
The English teacher who really did care.
When I was at school
We had a test to see
If I could tell the difference
Of colors in front of me.
We all stood there in a single line
I didn't know what to do
The teacher showed us purple
I thought it was blue.
Then we had another test
This time on our own
We had to spot a number
Within a colored zone.
The first was a red seven
On a white back ground
I thought this test was easy
But it got harder as I found.
The third page was so different
The number I couldn't see
For that page was full of dots
It completely baffled me.
My mate was standing next to me
He whispered number three
The teacher saw what he was doing
And said hey you leave him be.
The number there I could not tell
The colors blew my mind
Then the teacher turned and said
Are you color blind.
So from that day the colors I see
May not be quite true
If you see the color purple
I will see it blue.
Our teacher rides on her broom
she levitates on it in our classroom
she will snap and then deride
wish she'll take her pride for a ride!
Our teacher rode off on her broom
and there was joy in the classroom!
Our teacher came back from her ride
and all the students stirred inside,
"How do we rid her?"
"We must decide!"
"There are students in other classrooms
that also ride as you on brooms"
"They need a guide!"
"They want your brew!"
"They can ride along with you!"
"They can be your new crew!"
"Fly to them now, that's what you should do!"
" We won't miss you, we won't be blue ! "
"Fly to them now, that's what you should do!"
Copyright McCuen 2009