Appreciation Teacher Poems | Examples
These Appreciation Teacher poems are examples of Teacher poems about Appreciation. These are the best examples of Teacher Appreciation poems written by international poets.
My early childhood was great, I was the first born.
My mother had five children after me so I mostly remember
spending lots of time with my doting grandmother
who kept me busy learning to sew & knit before I could read & write.
I had such enthusiasm and benefited from tons of attention.
Creativity was a game to me and I learned to value time.
When I was nine, we moved far away and life changed overnight.
I was really lucky to land a grade 5 teacher who guided me
to learn english at an accelerated rate. I was a good student.
I've always been particularly thankful to both, teacher and grandmother.
they truly helped mold me into the person I turned out to be.
I can also say that, in my heart, I firmly believe... Since my youth, before bedtime, kneeling on my bare knees, I prayed to God. I prayed that way until I reached the age of 50. From that time onwards, I pray a bit different, but it doesn't matter, the essence is the same, and I pray to God every day. ~ Nikola Tesla
His father was a priest, believing
In the light, the love that completes us
Once they guessed
He’d be a child of darkness, depressed
Life would give him opportunities
To prove that he was blessed
Even the air seemed more alive
Knowing this soul who would indeed thrive
What he gave our world surely impressed
He taught me how to wield
the weapon made of words—
a blade that kills,
now saving lives,
like it once saved mine.
My own work
pulled me back from the edge.
And in it,
he lives—
my teacher,
the man behind the lines.
Words—
once carved deep in the mind—
outlive the flesh,
outlast the hands
that once shaped them.
His words stopped me
from falling
to the hundred voices
that came to kill.
They caught my train
just in time
as I stood on tracks
with no will to run.
He never held me,
never came near.
But light can shine
without a hand,
and grace can guide
a demon back
from its final breath.
He never said : “Stay.”
He never said : “Don’t die.”
He simply lived
in such a way
that I believed—
perhaps, this world
can be heaven
for someone.
And that was enough
to make me see
the hell I’d made
and the rat I’d been,
crawling through tunnels
thinking no one
ever looked down
with love.
O’ Pat Pattison, you, my brilliant teacher,
I would shower in praises, had you not
taught me better! for cliches void of thought
are as worthwhile as a couch surfin’ moocher!
O’ masterful and deepest sort of creature,
shocked then, in the thrall of churning wounds, distraught
I found your grace—and for my breaking clot
you gave me poetry, this soothing suture.
Trochees and iambs, blank verse, Shakespear’s form—
you illuminated a path obscure
to my sight. The subtle rhythms and rhymes
you used as guideposts through a ruthless storm
are now the tools that fix me fast,—secure.
I’d take your class again a million times.
Socrates to Plato
Emerson to Thoreau
When the student is ready, the teacher will appear
Invaluable lessons will be on display for him to feel, see, and hear
Ali to Larry
Jordan to Kobe
If the student is willing, he will do the valiant work
He would rather not be the teacher; instead, he aims to show his worth
Picasso to Warhol
James to Michael____
Teacher to student
From shadow to lucent
Teacher to student
From unwise to prudent
A smart man studies and learns from the best
He knows and respects the work and readies himself for his test
She would do our heads in, but It’s not that I didn’t value her great teaching skills. Her strategies and patterns always stood out. The tool of teaching was used to best effective use by her, I can ensure you of that, in fact it was levels beyond the rest.a record, a memory that can’t be broken.
In years to come we will remember those days. Sometimes she would cry thinking we might all fail, other times she would laugh with us or at us. I suppose that’s all just part of life, but she did love our class From the core and heart, well that’s what I think.
We thank you for all your hard work and dedication, but in saying that, teaching us must have been so hard.
I want you to know that you will remain in our thoughts, as long as you promise to continue to do people’s heads in and always to stay sound
In all God's seasons,
they're laborers of his love:
the TEACHER's teachers:-
For teachers are the torch the gods may send,
Whose patient light, the wounds of darkness mend;
Who, but they bring beginning, there be end.
There is always that person
Who is the most important after parents.
The one who thought us everything
And made us who we are now.
The art of being a teacher
Is like eternity.
The endless joy of progressions,
Is the ecstasy of both.
They are the God's
Who transforms us into the best one's.
Makes us prove ourselves.
And be proud of oneself's.
For me, it's my master.
The one who made me realize who I am
And what my potential is.
The one who thought me my interest
And made me the best in it.
The happiness I get out of it
Is another level of exuberance.
I like my hobby, more like passion,
It gives life to me.
Thank all the teachers
Who helps you through your works.
They are wonderful for who they are.
Because learning is as important as oxygen.
My Teacher Is The Light Of My Life
Birds sing sweetly in the morning
The sky is clear without clouds and blue
My teacher came riding a bicycle
Bring useful knowledge
For our beloved ones
My teacher gave me a role model
Without tiredness or time
The light of your lamp will always live
Illuminates every step of the journey
Your knowledge will be useful throughout your life
My teacher told me
When you grow up you will become a useful person
To the nation
I pinned the message in my heart
All your services will never be forgotten
More than any master,
More than any preacher,
You are the best guide!
Yes! You are the best teacher.
Any excess of summer,
And you cool down as rain.
When the showers get too much,
The clouds drift...you peek again.
When the chilly nights of winter,
Get tough to bear, far too long,
Your warm comfort makes us smile,
In the warmth of spring, we can sing a song.
Like a master of trapeze,
You are all about balance.
You teach us control, harmony,
Yes... you always make sense.
Day and night,
Darkness and light,
There's never disagreement,
There's never a fight!
In you, great teacher,
All can exist side by side,
Desert, Valley, Hills and Plain,
Each gets its place of pride.
For the mind that understands,
For the eyes that truly see,
Your lessons are invaluable,
And they all come for free!
You are the best teacher,
That's what we can say.
We know you have done it forever,
And you will go on showing the way...
"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." Kahlil
Grade one, six years old, born to immigrant parents
not a word of English did I speak, but I found compassion
in a kind loving teacher who smelled like talcum powder
and wore baby blue eyeshadow the color of the sky.
She never married for the love of her life died at war
each time she spoke of him her eyes shone like stars *
I will never forget that first day at school
when I began to cry, for I did not understand language.
I walked down a corridor of oppression and gloom until
she walked over to my desk and leaned into my ear,
"Don't worry, I speak Italian too in case you get stuck."
Its as if someone had just let me out of a dark suitcase.
As I inhaled the scent of her talcum I suddenly knew,
I would be fine. Miss Cartolano was my first grade teacher,
she was the one who taught me how to never give up.
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2024
"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." Kahlil
Grade one, six years old, born to immigrant parents
not a word of English did I speak, but I found compassion
in a kind loving teacher who smelled like talcum powder
and wore baby blue eyeshadow, the color of the sky.
She never married for the love of her life died at war
each time she spoke about him her eyes shone like stars *
I will never forget that first day at school
when I began to cry. Not understanding the language
I walked a dark corridor of oppression and gloom.
She walked over to my desk and leaned into my ear,
don't worry I speak Italian too in case you get stuck.
Its as if someone had just let me out of a dark suitcase.
I inhaled the scent of her talcum and the color of her blues.
Everything would be fine I knew as I walked through
the portals of my mind unafraid, I began to trust and learn.
Miss Cartolano was my first grade teacher.
She was the one who taught me how to never give up.
My Favorite Teacher
Is Forever near
In the morning at noon at night
He wears to die for
leather Sandals, encasing
Well travelled dusty feet.
A robe so crisp, so white, so fresh
With a head of fragrant curls
So soft
So forgiving
Forever kind; whose lessons are taught
In the wisest of ways;
No disapproving, angry, wagging fingers;
To remain in one’s heart, for all of one’s days.
The greatest teacher I have ever known
never worked in a classroom.
He was an actor and radio announcer of some renown.
A man of many talents, I'd assume.
He directed me once when I was acting in a play,
and he'd let me know - right away! -
if he didn't like the way I'd say
a certain line (sometimes to my dismay!)
He taught me the value of silence and being still.
Economy of movement was an important skill
that I needed to learn
and although he was not shrill in his criticism
he could be very stern,
never the kind to use witticism
to make a point.
Indeed, his best instructions were often unvoiced.
My performance in that comic play
turned out quite successfully,
and to this very day
it is still a fond memory.
In all my years in theatre
he gave to me the greatest education.
Eventually, I'd realize that under
his tutelage I learned much about dedication
to the craft of acting,
reacting and interacting.
I learned that it's all about communication,
and though he is long gone,
I remember him fondly, with great appreciation.
Thank you, Denys.