First Day At School
A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not so cool.
School Just School
School we need it
school you have teachers
school is great
high school is even better
school you mite find your true love
new experiences everyday
Still sits the school-house by the road,
A ragged beggar sleeping;
Around it still the sumachs grow,
And blackberry-vines are creeping.
Within, the master's desk is seen,
Deep-scarred by raps official;
The warping floor, the battered seats,
The jack-knife's carved initial;
Among School Children
I WALK through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and histories,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way -- the children's eyes
In momentary wonder stare upon
A sixty-year-old smiling public man.
I dream of a Ledaean body, bent
Above a sinking fire. a tale that she
When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down.
The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its
bagpipes among the bamboos.
Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows
where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee.
Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground.
They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to
come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand
in a corner.
When the rain come they have their holidays.
School, it is stressing at times.
Many times I don't even have it on my mind.
School is good, and it is bad, there are times I think that I'm
going to mad.
It is a good thing to go to school, so that you could remember the rules.
Don't be shy.
Don't be a fool.
Go to school, and learn all the rules.
On Old Man's Thought Of School
AN old man's thought of School;
An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself
Now only do I know you!
O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass!
And these I see--these sparkling eyes,
These stores of mystic meaning--these young lives,
Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships--immortal ships!
A School Song
Prelude to "Stalky & Co."
"Let us now praise famous men"--
Men of little showing--
For their work continueth,
And their work continueth,
Broad and deep continues,
Greater then their knowing!
September, The First Day Of School
My child and I hold hands on the way to school,
And when I leave him at the first-grade door
He cries a little but is brave; he does
Let go. My selfish tears remind me how
I cried before that door a life ago.
I may have had a hard time letting go.
Each fall the children must endure together
Stay In School
Stay in school, don't be a fool
A dropout gets left out
A dropout gets pushed out
Show me your name, what does it mean
Show me your ring, you're in the scene
Without an education there is no beginning
With education you are winning
Stay in school, student maintain your cool
It's so hard to get a job now days
Without education just be on your way
The School Of Metaphysics
Executioner happy to explain
How his wristwatch works
As he shadows me on the street.
I call him that because he is grim and officious
And wears black.
The clock on the church tower
Had stopped at five to eleven.
The morning newspapers had no date.
The gray building on the corner
Address To The Scholars Of The Village School Of ----
I come, ye little noisy Crew,
Not long your pastime to prevent;
I heard the blessing which to you
Our common Friend and Father sent.
I kissed his cheek before he died;
And when his breath was fled,
I raised, while kneeling by his side,
His hand:--it dropped like lead.
Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all
That can be done, will never fall
School School School
Every school has a name but
school is so lame
school what can I say
school im there like every day
school is like a prison, you can nver escape
school is like having a detencion every day
school you tell us to do schoolwork and at home we have to do homework: (
school, school, school
work, work, work
Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis
'And has the Sun his flaming chariot driven
Two hundred times around the ring of heaven,
Since Science first, with all her sacred train,
Beneath yon roof began her heavenly reign?
While thus I mused, methought, before mine eyes,
The Power of EDUCATION seemed to rise;
Not she whose rigid precepts trained the boy
Dead to the sense of every finer joy;
Nor that vile wretch who bade the tender age
Spurn Reason's law and humour Passion's rage;
Why do we go to school?
We have to learn
We have to strive harder
We have to go to school
School can be fun...
For some people!
I find it fun
I find it bad
I know a guy who was whipped at his school...
That was my dad!) :
The Junior High School Band Concert
When our semi-conductor
Raised his baton, we sat there
Gaping at Marche Militaire,
Our mouth-opening number.
It seemed faintly familiar
(We'd rehearsed it all that winter),
But we attacked in such a blur,
No army anywhere
On its stomach or all fours
Could have squeezed through our crossfire.
Sonnet: On School-Life
First day we stepped into a school was great-
In uniform with school-bag, looking cute!
We could not walk or run and had a slate;
We learnt to read and write and be not mute.
We learnt the Alphabets: count one to ten!
We ate so happily when school-bell rung;
Our teachers taught us how to hold the pen;
We can’t forget those days when we were young.
School is fun,
School is great,
Even if your late.
In school we do Math,
We do Art,
I love that part.
In Social Studies,
We have homework buddies.
Being a translation of the song that was made by a Mohammedan schoolmaster of Bengal Infantry (some time on service at Suakim) when he heard that Kitchener was taking money from the English to build a Madrissa for Hubshees -- or a college for the Sudanese.
Oh Hubshee, carry your shoes in your hand and bow your head on your breast!
This is the message of Kitchener who did not break you in jest.
It was permitted to him to fulfil the long-appointed years;
Reaching the end ordained of old over your dead Emirs.