Please keep yelling,
And don't stop telling,
That this is for us,
Our future: success or bust.
No, don't give us work time,
I'm sure we'll be fine,
With five other classes,
And little to no more passes.
We really do care,
But it's just not fair,
That tuition is climbing,
And this poem must keep rhyming.
I just want the worksheet,
I promise not to cheat.
Really, I don't want to know,
How your teacher was your foe.
You're not us,
And yes I will cuss,
We have much more stress,
To pass the damn tests,
Yet here you are,
Repeating how bizarre,
How much bigger our load is,
As you pass out the quiz.
Don't get mad
When, by the door, we stand.
Give us a little lee-way,
If only for one day.
I hold it all in,
As this poem comes to fin,
So please, keep talking.
Wait, scratch that,
SHUT UP!