The Way It Use To Be Poem by John A. Hancock

She stood solemnly and majestically in front of the room
Grasping her rubber tipped pointer like a witch with a broom
Her voice crackled when she went to speak, demanding
Strict attention from them five days a week
The lessons were long and boring to hear
Her voice rang loudly in each child's ear
The writing on the black board formed endless white lines
Full of information to boggle one's mind
She sat in her desk
As a queen in her throne
Ruling her small subjects
With no mercy ever shown
The children all feared her
They never stepped out of line
For that rubber tipped pointer
Was always fresh on their minds