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I live in a world where 1+1 equal 2
Have you ever wondered, What did any of them do to us, Why so much hatred and headache And why not put in all in the past where it belongs? Have you ever thought about,
Your class was the worst thing that ever happened to my poetry Every night my homework was to spill my soul across a page Telling my class stories and truths I wish I could forget And every class when I turned in my poem
Teacher's lie when they say "there's no stupid questions!" Cause when I ask they get mad and yell at me for not paying attention. We have to sit through hour long lectures,
I'm finally here. I've waited, Day after day, And year after year. To sit in a class, Where an instructor is not concerned With keeping up appearances. Miss doesn't play Angry Birds.
When thinking of things I shouldn’t say To teachers to tell them my feelings I purse my lips to hold back thoughts And roll my eyes to the ceiling If I could tell you how I feel
Hey, you, at the board With your hands on your hips. You, in the front, The lesson on your lips. Stop. Listen. Teach me something important,
Shouting at knowledge upon the platform of a school auditorium Where my eyes become translucent and bestow the forbidden truth of the fetus cradled inside the womb of my brain-the bastard child of unused reason
Isn't it sad that I have break downs about school Every Week Teacher I dare you to say I don't care when I cried about your test Last Week I become so consumed with grades that I cheated This Week
Another worksheet that I will not need past high school. Yeah, I understand that school is not meant to be “cool.” But how is the Pythagorean Identity going to better my life?
I am just another dollar for attendance My first tardy, my first warning though you can see on your screen my record is cleaner than your desk. First Its your first year teaching,
Lemme just tell you my story. First this is not a safe place, so called school. Everywhere is a ring, Full of fighters. Oh you think you can help? Then forgive my mistake.
Shit you can't sa
Shit you can't sa
twisting and turning picking and pulling bullying the girl who cannot see
To this Day I remember, All the things they said to me.
There are 720 Days of High School give or take That’s almost two years for goodness sake! If I’m going to sit in a desk for that long
The time is here Its the start of a new year All schools are preparing For children to being with their horse playing Teachers are saying that learning is key But all we know to argue and ask why?
The class giggles
"It's due tomorrow," "Don't forget about your test," I am really fucked.
Working together is what we should do, Giving a helping hand can be more than you think. Speaking of our goals and how to achieve them makes a difference. Energy is formed from within ourselves to strive for them.
***I would suggest watching the video that I have uploaded rather than reading the actual poem.
Flourescent Lights assualt me as the dirty school walls swallow my being, my mind, my will. The nagging bell barks "class time" and as I sit in your hard plastic boxes which
You tell me that you’re “Not going to play this game” What the hell does that mean? You’re declining nonexistent invitations to nonexistent games now? NOT going to play. And they say that you’re not crazy.
I understand that you're human You need to understand that I'm human too I understand that you have bad days like everyone else can You need to understand many things can paint a teenager blue.
Hey teacher, I've got something to say I want to tell you about stuff I see each day You need to change a lot, but i know you can do it. There's a lot to cover, so i'll get right to it.
The desk is neat; the coat's unseen No teacher there - high five! You cheer, you applaud, it's a happy scene As you wait for the sub to arrive. Who will it be this time, Mr. Strict or Mr. Nice?
Staring at that clock Five days of the week Hearing your voice I’m cut off when I speak You say you know best How is this fair? You talk of help and aid But inside don’t really care
Frustration builds and I'm kicking myself I've procrastinated on the project again, and my anxiety rises I only do this to myself because, I have anxiety issues Due dates only make it worse
Hey, what is you name? I don't even remember your name, it's like you're a window pane. Ever listen to what we say, we blame you for cheaply getting paid. You yell when we tell, I just wish you would fall,
I am an assortment of untapped potential. Is this the world's way
I'm surrounded in a crowd But I've never felt so alone. Vaguely familiar faces plague me,
its that time of class when your books are stacked on your desk and they have been there for 5 min. already your eyes have been glued to the clock and your friends start to get ansty.
You can go on and all about the games, the football. But when will you teach us? Give the students the things they need for success. You have a required graduation class, yet you harass,
I once took a test that required I fill in my race. I looked at the options, and confusion struck my face. As i bubbled Hispanic/Latino I felt I was lying to the Test Proctor.
We are the ones shot down day after day forced to tip-toe around our own shattered remains. Reality surrounds us. Holding us in its painful grasp. Never daring to let us go and give us a chance to breathe.
No! Why? Don't do that! Don't make me take off my nail polish. Don't make me take off my ankle socks. Don't dictate what shoes I can wear. Why should we tuck in our shirts? Do our shirt-tails really matter?
Unapproachable is the best word to describe the "teachers", they seem to call themselves seeming to put our education, on the bottom shelves Struggling, striving, for what seems so out of reach
Please think back to when you scolded, those kids with talents you could have molded. Now they're wandering out and about, is it them, or did you doubt? Try to approach smile and grin,
For what it’s worth I know how you feel I can speak to you but we both know we can’t say the truthI know what it’s like for you and trust me when I sayIt sucks for us too.
"It is too early to be worrying about Trig" "Cam you not tell us about how your husband doesn't love you?" "Do you ever shut up?" "How about we learn about something interesting today and not about gonads"
Dear Ms. B I came to your class on the first day of the eighth month with hopes of enlightenment and acceptance, instead I got... shit,
Given the chance, I would take a stand, And tell you that you’re wrong. Given the chance, I would make you listen To the frustration you cause me.
Everyday I sit in classListening to the teacherLike a good student.And then I go home andDo my homeworkLike a good student.Next day I go to schoolAnd sit in my classLike a good student.
I'm floating, but oh, sure to sink soon. A sponge soaking in dirty water-- You say waving; truth told, I'm drowning. One little fish caught up in a school. Follow the leader, but the leader--
There is no good morning when I sit in this class at 7am I don’t give a care about what you’re sayin How would listening to you rant help me Achieving a dream, is this how it’s supposed to be?
I am here, In this classroom, Desk wedged hard into my back, Eyes straining, struggling, striving to stay open, Teacher’s monotone lecture filling the air, But missing my ears. I am here,
This school was created for US They were ment to serve our needs as blacks Now you tell me I'm not good enough I'll never be equal I'll always have to work harder, be better
"May I use the bathroom?" "No, five other people went." "Well I'm sorry. I didn't know our urinary systems ran together." Well, there goes your Saturday. You've got detention.
You tell me I'm worthless. You tell me I can't comprehend as others comprehend. I yearn to yell and defend myself. But all I can do is whisper internally, "Help." I am worthless? Am I worthless?
Oh teacher, oh teacher, put your phone away. Don't tell me in your "first day of school teacher tell all" that you are a stickler for the rules, and then text while we sit her and take notes.
We're not the Past We're your Past We wear diapers We play with dolls We dress up We shoot toy guns We build out of blocks We make mud cakes We talk to our imagination
I never told you that I never had my mom sign my planner because I didn’t want her to hit me when she saw I got a B
Twain says not to let school Interfere with learning. Well, teach, I've gotta say You are getting in my way. I need to learn: how to think, How to live, how to be.
You SitIn the same chairsurrounded by the mindless,the dullthe Are You Seriously Sleeping Right now?the “I do it to make my parents proud”the stereotypesthe What Even Is That
Students slump into the dull, gray roomLooking around, they see nothing but gloomIn the stone seats that they sit inUncomfortable and bareThey're expected to be uprightPay attentionAnd stare.
Dear Teacher I hate group projects thanks to you why you may ask because I always get paired up with someone who dont give a shit about their grade and I am stuck doing all the work ALWAYS
You're supposed to lead us on our quest for a brighter tomorrow, You are the one who brings us only sorrow, We look to you for help, Yet every day in class you make us yelp. TEACH US, Not talk down to us.
Teacher Dearest, I'm tired of hearing your voice and your lectures, They're usually followed by meaningless words and pointless hand gestures. Last I checked, we were hear to learn,
Cummings, Frost, Poe, Shakespeare, I couldn't tell you "what he meant here" And Romeo and Juliet? Something about a Capulet. Simile and metaphor, 1. It(s) like/is nothing that I've heard before...
Mr. comes through the door rubbing his eyes half the students are cutting- that's no big surprise. He yawns and ruffles through some worksheets for today a shrinking of thoughts, and even less words to say.
“I didn’t want to come back and teach your class in the first place,” you say. “Then why come back at all,” we say. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with y’all now,” you say. “So then why are you still here,” we say.
From your talk to your walk I can't stand your presence Everyday I enter that doorway and become trapped in this prison.. your chalk is writing what happen to markers and hope?
Maybe it’s my choice Because you never seem to care. And it’s my voice, That you never seem to hear. They’re my decisions,
This is Not A Poem on Religion I appreciate what you do, But I don’t like how you do it. I am a student
I think teachers should teach more mathematics Less Algebra, And more about taxes. Prepare us for life, Not just lab write ups. They have us studying for days, When all along,
In class we are asked, To find the sum or the mass, Of topics that I'll never need. What about doing taxes, Or working the faxes, Because this I never see.
The songs of silence drone on as you lecture The only sound is the skittering of pens across the page And then you sing With your most boring of song Telling us of our English lessons for the days
I feel like there should be something more Just the same routine. It’s getting boring and, Dragging us down. We should be educated on something
No Ma'am I cannot stop talking, I had to tell Sarah about my strict parents and about the cute guy I talk to now. No Ma'am I did not do my homework, I had an essay, a project, and test to study for.
A shooting star casts itself through the void
You say you're here to help, but you criticize and yell. I feel lost and alone, it's just misery. Why can't you offer advice, instead of tearing me down? Teachers are supposed to care,
Dear teacher, oh beloved wisdom preacher, I do not want to be a mathemetician, or a public speaker. I do not want to visit in the Earth's core, nor will I ever encounter the Civil War.
On the first day of class we sign a promise not to plagiarize But really it’s a balance Between copying And knowing what you want to hear Because our own words aren’t in your answer key You can’t cite scars
School is for learning, right? Education is meant to be an enlightening experience, fill the pores of humanity with a vast expanse of colors, the colors of Knowledge So I sit in a desk for 8 hours, 5 days a week
Do you understand? Do you understand what it's like? Do you understand how it feels? Do you understand what it's like and how it feels not to learn? How it feels not to be successful?
Macroeconomics (to me) is the first stall in a public restroom. It's the better-than-you step-sister. It's the stench of the fish aisle at the super market. It's wanting to wear a skirt but not wanting to shave.
Walking around like an arrogant queen You talk like an old and boring machine A student once asked a plain question You scoffed and dismayed it without discretion "Look it up" is what you have always said
Who am I? I'm that girl sitting right in front of you. Look me in the eye. Do you know who I am? I don't think you have a clue. I want you to remember something. YOU were in my shoes once.
Teachers are Such ass who always get on my nervous. I try to stay calm before i give them what they deserve. They try to be your friend which is a wrong chioce. Then they get mad at you and try to raise their voice.
Waking up to the thoughts of kissing razorsbut you'll never know more than to demand orteach what you think is right, how to solve an equationwhen all i really need is to solve my dementia
Teachers Only Care About their Paychecks The Apples on Their Desks Teachers Need to Look in Students' Eyes Need to Realize Behind the Book Behind the Calculator If They Would Look
Student advice is not often heard, even though we repeat every word. We appreciate your help, and all of your time. But sometimes you're as bitter as a lime. We try to ask questions, we raise our hands. You look at us like a herd of lambs.
Do you ever stop to listen? Hear the agony in these walls? The fact that most of us are trapped in hell, as we shuffle through the halls? Do you ever stop to think, that maybe you might be wrong?
Can you not treat me like I'm 10. I'm a senior in high school Can you not try to make funny jokes and expect us to laugh. You're not a comedian. Can you not complain about your outside life. I really don't care.
Were told to share our opinions, Were told to state our minds, Were told to take a stand, And share thats all inside. Teachers say thats right, They tell us what to do, We follow, we listen ,We agree,
Once again I sit at your glance, Your look puts me in a trance, My peers behind me stay silent and blank, May I object to your highnesses desk? You ask us questions everyday, We don't know the answer,
The classroom is stuffy. It is boring and dull. I want to have fun learning it all. I want the students to talk about the books we read, And the books should be updated; not depressing with deeds.
Monotony, lectures, homework, and papers Make things more interesting. You think you can make me interested by cracking jokes like eggs over a broken stove.
There’s a lot of shit I can’t tell my teachers, Like how kids pick on my flaws and features, What’s the point of telling them anyway? I still have to live with it everyday. They never help,