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Mr. Ivan, The Principal Poet

My Students


They come in big and little.
They come in short and tall.
Some are fat. Some are thin.
Some names I can't recall.

They're boys. They're girls.
They're poor or rich. Some no longer care.
Some dress in tattered cast-offs.
Some have fashion, poise, and flair.

They're quick. They're slow.
They forget, or they recall.
Some will never get it.
Some write. Some print. Some scrawl.

They're students in my classroom.
Each one's unique and rare.
So should I treat them "equal"?
Or should I strive for "fair"?

No two alike. No needs the same.
Each different day to day.
It's hard to think in black or white;
My life is spent in gray.

It may be math or English
Or the other things I teach,
But my raw material is a student,
And I give my best to each.

For those who see my classroom
Like a business or machine,
I'd like for them to visit
And show just what they mean.

For each child. For each day.
To each in different ways.
I add my value to their lives
And do my best, I pray.

When I am called to judgment
And stars are added to my crown,
I hope they'll see I was a teacher,
And keep my class load down!

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Article by Ivan Kershner
Education World®
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