sh*t you can't say to your teachers
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“Asian” used to be a thing of beauty, But now there are images of labor— Simply that is our soul duty. But we, just like all, are humble neighbors. Here I am, color of sand
A masterpiece was promised, A carving out of words, To stand, eloquent, elegant Child of talent, effort, ripped-up sheets, The first of many, Essay-sculpture, And I, Author-carver.
To say that the classroom is old and dried out isn't much of a stretch. You still get judged on the ideals you're told to fetch. There's no life and no learning.
All you know is she's so perfect All you hear are the right answers coming out of her mouth All you see is her dazzling smile But what if you really knew her?
Free Free country, they say. But really? To conform To think the same To act the same Based on a "correct system"... But really? Where's the freedom To be an individual?
It seems they don’t care anymore They cast us away As if we are nothing more than toys for play
Education, a thing we take advantage in this generation.
Number One, you crack down with your whip, but smile everyday. You bring me into a world which I love, A world that makes me think and makes me wonder.
I’m not an idiot.I am smart,Clever,And deprecatingly funny.
The classroom is my dungeon Cold, stark, and bleak. The desk is my cage Restraining my mind’s reach. I’m drawn away from creativity Herded by the group Who are too slow to move on
I am afraid Afraid to raise my hand Afraid to even try I am smart, just not as smart as my classmates I know i am smart, I just take a longer time comprehending
Wake up at 5AM. Get dressed. Eat something. I’m sure this sounds familiar already. 7AM and classes have started with the chattering of my peers and the clicking of pens too colorful for our assignments.
You think you know us, But you don’t even understand chess. So go ahead and please fall in front of a bus. I think I would be relieved by my stress. You say you want to help,
Don't you talk to me. Are you sure that you can teach? This class makes me sleep.
Students cannot say You are wrong in many ways or that your hair is going gray. Students cannot say The way you grade is unfair or that we hope you get eaten by a bear.
She’s submerged in the depths of depression, But deception is her specialty. Yet, someone has seen through her walls. They have seen the hurt she conceals. She walks down the halls with a smile on her face,
Back and forth my desk goes, During tests, reading, writing The distraction it causes nobody knows, The urge to scream, truly, I’m fighting While such a small wobble, Doesn't seem all that bad,
Teacher, oh, teacher, how you make me weep Every night I get less and less sleep You torture me with dull tales My mind is going off the rails Teacher, oh, teacher you're killing me
You kick my chair for hours on end. Throw paper balls towards my face just to get under my skin. Talk mad sh*t behind my back to start some trouble, but you don't hear a peep out of me because I am invincible to your dirty bubble.
I sit in the very back of the room hoping you dont call my name. When you do, and I cant answer, you say I'm the one to blame. But you're the type of teacher that I cant come up to.
I’m sorry I can’t always follow the rules and get sucked into this thing they call high school.
To shake the hand of the principal is my goal To uplift my parents soul To make my teachers proud To stand in front of the crowd I am a student that sits in the class
I wrote a poem And it was on white paper With black lines And I called it Happy
Is school just a care center for children, or is it a little bit more? In my opinion a school should be about educating through to the core. Are math and sceince and english the most important things to learn?
Alone in the corner they sit at their desk, Pulling down sleeves to cover their bruises. With frightened eyes they follow every hand, Even though here they are safe. They look at you and hope you know,
The strings between the teachers and students has been weak Some teachers no longer care for the education of the student If only the bond between them can be brought back to its peak
Preface: Prejudice and bias should never step foot in the classroom. This is retribution for all the production ( I and II) students who were declared “too ethnic” or “ not natural enough” for the role by our southern, instructor Mrs.
Oh, teachers, how you are skilled in boring The normal, average, local students Who keep on searching, always exploring For a teacher with the greatest prudence Students today are looking for a purpose
In math class last year,I sat so close to the doorI could almost feel the other students in the hallway brushing up against me.
Struggling to be understood Communication with no voice Assuming he's not making the right choice His body a prison, his mind a saint Can't escape Blood- boiling desire, useless dreams
“Bananas have no thumbs, just as the education system has no ears or at least pretends that its hard at hearingAllowing our youth to slip through cracks in the system making hard work what our children are fearing
These students are sitting up too straightly, We must bend them Break their backs Twist spines
Mozart or maybe BeethovenPlays in the background.The violins sound tiredThe flute a little out of tune. I cross and uncross my legs.I am nervous.I am scared.The door opensand I lay in the bed.
These are things I can't say, or maybe because you don't listen. I am a human being, a living breathing being. Not another cog in your machine called school. Your tests may show how good at math I am, or the words I know,
You sit behind your desk Looking very grotesque Because you are scared That you are ill-prepared One of us will out shine Causing you to whine. Is that fair? To swear.
Cellulose, glucose, disaccharides, evolution. One more assignment I swear, there will be a revolution. The homework is hard, while exams nearly cause treasoning. Picking this class was stupid, beyond logical reasoning.
Let’s make a change, Let’s make a change to our society, to our lives, to our futures. No longer shall we hide around the corner when we see someone being talked to as if their nothing.
Open your books Turn to page.. Wait open up a book to learn about nothing that is me Turn to a page that has only been printed to read against me Today we will be reading the chapter...
You never seem to see. Attention is what she rarely gets. Because ignoring is just easier. Easier than watching her cry. Easier than watching her die. A little bit each day. You never pull her aside.
Why must I sit down in this environment, We got students dropping out and old teachers retiring, I mean Im not one for admiring, But to me this teachers aren't inspiring, They sit on their desk talking nonsense babbling sounding childish, Its time
For the sixth time this morning you called her ugly For the tenth time today you called her stupid For the hundredth time this week you called her useless And when she came to school today
I think of my future and how you are in the way i think about that one passing grade and while i stare out the window and listen to your incessant droning on
They say bring your own device, But now we can leave behind the teacher? I miss the personal guidance and advice Of an instructor, a mentor, a living creature. They say here, everything is on these iPads;
What can I do / When you dont have a clue / You never knew / I just wanted to say screw you // I just wanted to earn / I really yearned / But with you I cant learn / And now I'm no longer your concern.
Your words come at me like a swarm of bees. Stinging me and you just can't see. They sting so hard and it happens so fast. I asked a question now I understand less than I did in the past. Your explanations just threw me off track.
My hands are sweating, My mind is fretting. The clock is ticking, The time is shrinking. Still I sit here and stare, Spacing off into thin air. Finally I pick up my pencil,
I should know this, I should know this... I should know this by heart. I've done it so much I should have it down like an art. What do to? What to say? Can I ask how to start
You don’t know me, My book has yet to be released. Judge me when you have the right, But for now, turn left.
A slip here, a slip there. I am sure the teacher will not care. She knows we secretly call her names. The witch or Ms. Happy is what we dubbed her to be. Oh trust me, Ms. Happy is not what it seems.