Funny Teacher Poems | Examples
These Funny Teacher poems are examples of Teacher poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Teacher Funny poems written by international poets.
Every wonder where they come from?
I’m just glad that I still get some.
Sometimes they’re pleasant and seem good,
sometimes vague and misunderstood.
At times they’re funny or bizarre,
like riding on a shooting star.
Often it seems they’re teaching me,
past life lessons I didn’t see.
Sometimes one seems like dejavu,
in another time I was you.
Then there was one, I wasn’t a man,
my whole body was made of sand.
Dreams are intriguing, so much fun.
Recurring dreams are never done.
My teacher who thought sun-bathing made her well-red,
graded me average, she was mean to the power hundred.
She was once a banker, but after some time lost interest,
wanted to be a pilot, so her career could take off for the best.
She thought to be able to fly high, could be truly uplifting,
instead she bought a boat, for in the sea it was for sail drifting.
She was an optimist, her blood type was B-positive, they stated,
but the doctor said it was Type-O, the mistake was corrected.
Her memory was photographic, but she couldn’t fully develop it,
she needed to alter a brain part, changed her mind the last minute.
When she stole neighbor’s lamps, he couldn’t be more de-lighted,
a picturesque girl, she landed in jail, “I was framed”, she asserted.
Teacher leaves me no instructions.
I am a last second substitute
I will be here an hour, and I have no idea what I am doing.
One of the six-year-olds begins twerking.
An obscene dance, if you know something.
At home it might be considered funny.
I call him over and ask if he wants to sit with me.
I am old school, no nonsense, no play when you are in the wrong.
He decides he does want to sit with me.
Terrific choice.
This eliminates any chance I could have had for my own playtime.
Oh well, I did not need free time anyway.
We had a most horrid schoolteacher,
And us children did all hate her,
She’d shout at us for no real reason,
And threaten to see us later,
She had a dip on a Florida trip,
And was swallowed by an alligator,
But only crocodile tears were shed,
‘Cos we were all just … gladiator!
How many people in your family?
She is in second grade; she said “one hundred.”
“One hundred people live in your house?”
I think she thought this was funny.
Two, she said.
You and….
Me and my mom and my sister.
That is three, I told her.
She did not argue long.
What does your Mom do? I asked.
She goes on the phone.
What does she do with it?
She texts her cousins and her boss and her mom.
But she doesn’t text her dad.
Why not?
He died in a car wreck.
I do not see further meaning
behind the choice of word
To analyze this is demeaning
I think it is absurd
Whoever decided to write this
must of been high as a kite
If you want this class to be treacherous
stab me to make it a fair fight
The only thing less moving than poetry
is the clock up on the wall
Time is is no hurry
to set me free into the hall
My teacher tries to no avail
perhaps I’m unable to learn
Or maybe all poets are evil
and just want the world to burn
My teacher was not so good as yours seems to be,
His name was Goodwill and he taught us Chemistry.
He always wanted us to answer difficult questions,
And beat you strong if you cannot balance equations.
If you are late in class he'd twist and twist your ear
Until it falls to the ground and you'll pick it there.
He was so strong when he held you you'd wet your pants...
(He had gigantic hands I once gave him a compliment)
But a person can survive twenty four strokes I was the experiment,
Don't ever disturb Goodwill and give him a comment!
One time he held a student by the door
And twisted his ear till it fell to the floor.
I've never seen Goodwill apologize before
And he will never, for that I'm sure.
Five red pencils,
Fighing in the class.
First one said,
I am bigger than you are.
The second one said,
I am the strongest.
The third one screamed,
I write so well.
The fourth one interrupted,
Excuse me guys, I look so well.
The fifth one alerted,
Keep quiet, teacher is on the way.
Date of submission: 21/05/2021
He is a real problem the other counselor told me
She has given me a year of misinformation
So, I am not ready to jump on this hook
I go to get him; he is seven, and super funny.
He is a cartoonist like me, and uses words like
“please” and “thank you”
Words I myself often forget to use
We have such a great time I forget to take him back
We are ten minutes late; I will take all blame
On the way I feel something crispy put into my hand.
It is half a chocolate chip cookie.
He grins at me.
This will not be our last visit
He has made my Friday delightful!
They never cover their mouths.
They come in sneezing and hacking.
They are germ-mobiles, and I am stuck with them
They are walking disease-spreaders she hissed.
Not in a whisper, but more like a low voice the six-year-olds could hear.
I stare at her, wondering if there is anything she likes about teaching
I spray their desks and their hands with hand sanitizer, she tells me.
I keep away from the coughers and the sneezers as much as possible.
One of them came up and threw up on her shoe while we were talking.
I had to bite my tongue so it would not laugh with abandon.
IBM
UBM
ICBM
On the floor.
The craziest creature
Straight out of a feature
Was named Mr. Beecher.
Foaming came from his mouth.
And his dribbling went south.
Also he lisped like a gigantic louse.
He became our art teacher.
This creature named Beecher.
Bulbous nose his best feature.
On our papers he would sneeze.
After a “humph” and a wheeze.
He was a snotty old tease.
We planned and we plotted.
Our ink we all blotted.
To prove he was dotted.
They took him away.
To a funny farm to stay.
It was a Tuesday.
Art therapy at five!
Beecher was truly alive!
Funny farm was his jive!
Let’s be a teacher I said to myself.
I know how to add and put books on a shelf.
It will be fun I said to my mind.
Are you daft in the head? Takes one of a kind!
The children are crazy.
And frankly you are too lazy.
They will do things so bad.
And you get so ridiculously mad!
It’s all about test scores
You will see lots of bores
It will be hard to do.
You will throw your shoe
Your temper you will lose
And you will make the news
You will be exhausted and tired
It is not the way you are wired!
Teaching is not the job you see
You do not have the temperament to be
In a room all day long with a bunch of kids
So I put my ha-ha dream on the skids.
Jimmy was our class clown in tenth grade.
He especially liked kidding our over-wrought, hand-wringing English teacher.
She droned on and on and on in such a dry, dull way, every 55 minute period.
It was especially exasperating to those of us who could read.
After about thirty-five minutes of it,
Jimmy would slide himself onto the super wide window sill
And disappear out the window, screaming all the way down,
as if he had been killed.
We would all laugh and some idiot would yell
“Jimmy fell out the window!” as if it was unusual.
The teacher nearly had a heart attack each time.
Of course I did not realize until later why it was a big deal.
Jimmy landed quite softly on a rather large Mulberry
bush under the window sill, never getting hurt.
We would all rush to the window and look out.
Laughing at our grinning Jimmy who had brought joy to class again.
The principal would soon bring a grinning Jimmy by the ear back to class.
If our English Teacher had ever looked up from her book or stopped her droning she might have seen Jimmy sliding onto that cement windowsill.
I marveled that she never changed her routine in any way.
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.