Shaddup Already!


An Ode to Bookfair

I just c&p'd this from Word, so hopefully the format will come out right. Enjoy!

First thing today,
I remember the news.
Bookfair is here,
I might blow a fuse.

As I drag myself in,
I grumble and moan.
For I know that today
my sanity’s on loan.

The kids come to class.
They’re bouncing off walls.
I want to send them,
right back to the halls.

They’ve forgotten procedures.
They’ve forgotten their rules.
Sometimes I think,
they’re more thickheaded than mules.

I tell them to sit,
they can’t hear my pleas.
I beg them for quiet,
which only one child sees.

I pull out the big guns,
I get their attention.
I threaten them all
with lifetime detention.

“What about bookfair?”
They scream and they cry,
“Why can’t we go now?
Why, why, WHY?!?”

“I have to take roll,”
I sigh and I say,
“And you have bellwork

The children are settled
and bellwork’s begun
with the calm of a penguin
who lands on the sun.

My attendance is taken,
I have no excuse.
In just a few moments,
all Hell will break loose.

“Stay together,” I say,
as the rules are explained.
“Talk softly and walk,
keep order maintained!”

I send them outside
to align on the ramp.
Little did I know,
they’d set up camp.

As I turn the corner,
I observe major trouble.
I fight the urge to
turn back on the double.

It’s obvious to me
that my students were rammed,
for they stand at the end,
maliciously crammed.

I rush to the aid
of my little sardines.
I’m willing to save them
by any means.

As I struggle my way
to the end of the walk
I hear all the giggling,
I hear all the talk.

I stand there in shock
I’ve just lost my voice.
They’re standing so close,
completely by choice.

I stay to the back,
just shaking my head,
wishing quite fervently
I’d stayed in my bed.

I recover my voice
and let out a shout,
“Move to the side!
Please let me out!”

We walk to the library,
at least 3 miles away,
suffering the heat
of a Florida day.

Four kids take off,
going top speed.
Nothing else matters,
they’re in the lead.

Five others fall back.
They really don’t mind,
from their point of view,
they’ll win from behind.

The remaining fifteen
spread out en masse,
just making sure
that no one can pass.

I think about shouting,
but I can’t anymore.
I just gave up the battle,
but I will win the war!

We finally arrive
at our destination
and all I can say is
“I need a vacation!”

We enter the door,
the kids go quite crazy.
My reasons for teaching
grow suddenly hazy.

I dream of a job
with a lower stress factor
like patching a cracked
nuclear reactor.

I’d walk in quite calmly
and not even flinch.
Fixing that baby
would be such a cinch.

I wouldn’t worry,
I would just stroll,
and using my bare hand,
I’d cover that hole.

I awake from my reverie
to a bloodcurdling shriek.
They’ve found a new use
for the book of the week.

This is my cue
to return to my room
before anyone else
meets the students of doom.

The return trip is like
the first one we traveled
except that the kids have
become even more unraveled.

We make it back to class,
somehow. . . someway,
and now I surely qualify
for a little hazard pay.

“I’m glad that’s over!”
I exclaim to the masses,
“and just think,
there’s only six more classes.”

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