My Junior education!

My Junior education! 

I remember little ladies, with pigtails in their hair,
Sitting to attention, on a little wooden chair,
Arms all neatly folded, staring straight ahead,
Paying full attention, – because that’s what the teacher said.

I remember scruffy schoolboys, no uniform we had,
Fighting in the playground, growing as a lad,
All these thoughts of mischief, running through our head,
Paying no attention, – well, – that’s what the teacher said.

I remember learning lessons, my tables two by two,
Speaking like a parrot till the message did get through,
Writing with a pencil, these numbers I did dread,
Getting better at it, – that’s what the teacher said.

I remember writing english, – what little I could glean,
From the mysteries of paragraphs, – with commas in between,
With sentences and hyphens, from morning until bed,
“You will never be a scholar son! “, – that’s what the teacher said.

I remember sitting on a mat, cross – legged on the floor,
Listening to a story, – and, – somehow, wanting more,
Learning education, from birthright until dead,
Is never, never ending, – well, – that’s what the teacher said!

Mick
(Copyright Michael Westwood 2014)

About the author

Mick Westwood
21243 Up Votes
I am a 71 year old retired coal miner, who spent 30 years working underground. Having time on my hands, and in order to keep my brain exercised, I decided to try to write poetry and put down on paper some of my life experience, and my hopes, dreams and other thoughts. I also do a little gardening, but I am hopeless at housework. Much to my wife's displeasure.

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