Never he showed the maps and globes to the boys.
His sudden entry scared them in the room.
Straddling his bike, he flew with a deafening noise.
To stop the smiles of the urchins, he'd loom.
He'd be going ratty if the boys said jokes.
To shun criticism, enough were his looks.
He'd stop teaching if a sore throat made croaks.
His wild punishment alarmed the young crooks.
Loud teaching he spurned as he was wont to read books.
My History Teacher was the reason that I picked up the habit of memorizing the dates of the events, as that teacher kept all the points at the finger tips while writing on the black boards and it is quite tough for the teachers, who is not familiar with the subjects, sometimes inefficient teachers use various tactic to keep the class in order. an interesting poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i like this piece and how you wrote it.keep up the good work