It Takes One to Know One Read online

  And though she’s taught for many years,

  The teacher’s eyes still fill with tears,

  For children know the ones who care

  And that is why those gifts are there.

  Class Discussion

  ‘In the class discussion, Jane, you hardly said a word.

  We all aired our opinions but from you we rarely heard.

  You sat and stared in silence surrounded by the chatter,

  Now tell me, Jane, and please be plain,

  Is there anything the matter?’

  Jane looked up and then she spoke,

  Her voice was clear and low:

  ‘There are many people in this world

  Who are rather quiet, you know!’

  Parents’ Evening

  So you are Matthew’s mother

  Then you must be his dad?

  I’m so very pleased to meet you,

  I am extremely glad.

  He’s such a gifted pupil,

  And such a little dear,

  There’s been a vast improvement

  In all his work this year.

  His writing is exceptional,

  So beautifully neat,

  His spelling quite incredible,

  His poetry a treat.

  His number work is flawless

  And his painting so inspired.

  He’s interested and lively,

  And he’s never ever tired.

  He’s amazingly athletic,

  And excels in every sport.

  Your Matty is the brightest child

  That I have ever taught.

  I should say he’s gifted – he comes top in every test.

  In fact in every single subject

  Your Matthew is the best!

  I must say, Mr and Mrs Flynn,

  You’re fortunate to have a child like him.

  Pardon?

  Oh! You’re not Matthew Flynn’s father,

  Then you can’t be his mum.

  You say I’ve got the names mixed up.

  Oh dear! What have I done?

  Well, I’m very, very sorry.

  So your child’s Matthew Brown.

  Well, before I tell you about your son

  You had better both sit down!

  Mr Lee Teaches Poetry

  Our English teacher, Mr Lee,

  Is very keen on poetry

  And every morning he will say:

  ‘We’re going to write a poem today.

  But please don’t waste a lot of time,

  In trying to make your poetry rhyme.

  In writing there is nothing worse

  Than striving desperately in verse

  To fit the words into the line,

  Just to get a silly rhyme.

  So remember in your poem today,

  It doesn’t have to rhyme – you know!’

  Poetry Lesson

  ‘I like your poem, Mandy… but

  There are parts which don’t sound right.

  You say that stars like diamond chips

  Illuminate the night,

  And that the cold and distant moon

  Gives off an eerie light…

  I think that there are better words to use.

  ‘I like your poem, Mandy… but

  Be careful with the rhymes.

  You say that from the lonely church

  Came strange and distant chimes,

  Reminding you of far-off days

  And of much happier times…

  I think that there are better words to use.

  I like your poem, Mandy… but

  The images aren’t too good.

  Instead of spooky forest glade,

  Insert the ghostly wood

  And avoid those dreadful gory bits

  Especially the blood.

  I think that there are better words to use.

  ‘And tell me,’ said the teacher,

  ‘Have you anything to say?’

  And Mandy said, ‘I’d like to ask,

  Whose poem is it… anyway?’

  Bible Class

  Reverend Bright, our vicar,

  Came in our class today.

  He started with a little talk,

  Then we closed our eyes to pray.

  He talked about the Bible,

  And the prophet Abraham,

  How God created everything

  And how the world began.

  Then he asked us all some questions

  About the prophets and the kings,

  David and Goliath,

  And lots of other things.

  ‘In a very famous garden

  Grew an apple on a tree,

  And who ate the forbidden fruit?’

  And a voice said,

  ‘Wasn’t me!’

  My Teacher

  I’m glad that I’m a pupil

  Of Mrs Eddleston,

  For every day is wonderful,

  Ooh, we do have lots of fun.

  There’s wooden bricks and building blocks

  And sand piled on a tray,

  A Wendy House and crates of toys,

  To play with all the day.

  In the morning when I wave goodbye

  To Mummy at the gates,

  I see Mrs Eddleston,

  Smiling as she waits.

  Then I run across the playground

  Through a sea of smiling faces

  And change into my indoor shoes

  (I can do up all my laces!)

  I hang my outdoor coat up

  On a row of little hooks,

  And rush to the Reading Corner

  Where there’s lots of picture books.

  Then Mrs Eddleston starts reading

  About the Mermaid and the Whale,

  About giants, elves and monsters mean

  Or our favourite fairy tale.

  And if the story frightens me

  I climb up on her knee

  And she tells me not to worry

  Because it all ends happily.

  But I’m sad and very sorry

  For I must leave Mrs Eddleston

  For now I am a big boy

  And I must be moving on.

  And though I’ve shed so many tears,

  Enough to fill a pool,

  Next year I join the sixth form

  At the comprehensive school.

  Once Upon a Time

  Once upon a time, children, long, long ago, There lived a…

  Big, ugly monster, Miss?

  No, David, not a big, ugly monster – a beautiful princess

  called Imelda. She had eyes as bright and as green as

  sparkling emeralds. She had hair which fell down her back

  like a golden waterfall. Her skin was as white…

  As a ghost’s, Miss?

  No, not a ghost’s, David. As white as the snow which covered the fields. Her lips were as red as…

  Blood, Miss?

  No, not blood, David, as red as cherries. But Princess

  Imelda was lonely. How she longed for someone with

  whom to play. As the seasons passed she stared out from

  the high window of her castle. Then one day something

  happened.

  Did she fall out, Miss?

  No, she didn’t fall out, David. She saw in the distance a

  great cloud of smoke.

  A fire-breathing dragon come to eat her up?

  David, will you listen! It wasn’t a dragon. It was a

  prince on a great white horse. As he rode over the little

  bridge…

  Did he fall off?

  No!

  Miss, was there a wicked troll under the bridge?

  David! Would you be quiet. There are other children in the

  class, you know, who might want to say something or ask

  a question. Now give somebody else a chance. Yes, Amy,

  have you got a question to ask me?

  Yes, Miss.

  What is it, dear?

/>   May I go to the toilet please?

  School Trip

  On our school trip to Scarborough

  We got to school on time,

  But the coach was caught in traffic

  And arrived at half past nine.

  Miss Phipps, our teacher, was so cross,

  Left standing in the rain

  And when the coach pulled up at last

  She didn’t half complain.

  The driver started shouting,

  He said there’d been a queue,

  But Miss Phipps she said, ‘That’s no excuse!’

  And started shouting too.

  On our school trip to Scarborough

  The sky turned cold and grey,

  Freezing winds blew down the beach

  And it rained and rained all day.

  Then Sharon slipped on a slimy rock,

  And Gordon grazed his knee,

  And Colin fell off the castle wall,

  And John jumped in the sea.

  Then our teacher started shouting

  And her voice was loud and high,

  And soon we were surrounded

  By a crowd of passers-by.

  On our school trip to Scarborough

  There was really quite a do

  When Hazel’s hat blew out to sea

  And Simon lost a shoe,

  And David dropped his flask of soup

  Which rolled right off the pier

  And landed on the coastguard

  Who happened to be near.

  Then the coastguard started shouting

  When it hit him with a thwack

  And when David said, ‘I’m sorry, mate,

  Could you pass my thermos back?’

  On our school trip to Scarborough

  We all ate tons and tons

  Of sticky rock and sandwiches

  And jellied eels and buns.

  And when the coach left Scarborough

  Sam was sick on Chris

  And Chris was sick on Wayne and Paul

  And they were sick on Miss.

  Then everyone was shouting

  All the children and Miss Phipps

  Until Jason asked the driver,

  ‘Can we stop for fish and chips?’

  On our school trip to Scarborough

  It wasn’t that much fun,

  Nothing really happened

  And we never saw the sun.

  We couldn’t do a lot of things

  Because of all the rain,

  But if I have the chance next year

  I’d love to go again!

  Interrogation in the Nursery

  Infant:

  What’s that?

  INSPECTOR:

  What?

  Infant:

  That on your face.

  INSPECTOR:

  It’s a moustache.

  Infant:

  What does it do?

  INSPECTOR:

  It doesn’t do anything.

  Infant:

  Oh.

  INSPECTOR:

  It just sits there on my lip.

  Infant:

  Does it go up your nose?

  INSPECTOR:

  No.

  Infant:

  Could I stroke it?

  INSPECTOR:

  No

  Infant:

  Is it alive?

  INSPECTOR:

  No.

  Infant:

  Can I have one?

  INSPECTOR:

  No, little girls don’t have moustaches.

  Infant:

  Why?

  INSPECTOR:

  Well, they just don’t.

  Infant:

  Can I have one when I grow up?

  INSPECTOR:

  No, ladies don’t have moustaches either

  Infant:

  Well, my grannie’s got one!

  Christmas Lights

  The lights on the Christmas tree winked,

  And the snow fell thick and heavy outside.

  From the walls of the school hall

  Angels spread their silver wings

  And the three kings held high their gifts.

  The lights dimmed and silence fell.

  Mums and dads, grannies and grampas,

  Stared at the stage expectantly

  For The Christmas Story to begin.

  A spotlight flooded the stage and a small child entered.

  Wide-eyed, she stared at the sea of smiling faces

  before her.

  ‘Welcome,’ she whispered, ‘to our… to our…’

  Then, she froze like a frightened rabbit,

  Caught in the headlight’s glare.

  ‘To our Nativity!’ came the teacher’s hushed

  voice, off-stage.

  ‘To our…’ began the child again. ‘To our…’

  ‘Nativity!’ repeated the teacher.

  ‘Harvest Festival,’ announced the child.

  Too Clever by Half

  I am so very good at everything,

  I really am the best,

  Brilliant at number work,

  The top in every test,

  My English book’s outstanding,

  And much better than the rest.

  Oh, I really am a very clever girl.

  I am extremely musical,

  My voice is quite sublime.

  I sing sweeter than the nightingale,

  No voice compares to mine.

  I play the cello beautifully,

  I really sound divine.

  Oh, I really am a very clever girl.

  I’m particularly sporty,

  And excel in every game:

  Netball, hockey, badminton,

  To me they’re all the same,

  And if the team I play with loses,

  Well, I’m certainly not to blame.

  Oh, I really am a very clever girl.

  I am a very pretty child,

  A little English rose.

  With long blonde curls and large blue eyes,

  And a little button nose.

  My hands and face are always clean,

  And so are all my clothes.

  Oh, I really am a very clever girl.

  I therefore find it rather strange

  That no one plays with me.

  Nobody ever telephones

  Or asks me round for tea.

  I don’t have any friends at all.

  Now, why ever should that be?

  Because I really am a very clever girl

  Holiday to Remember

  The highlight of the holiday

  (Well, it certainly was for me),

  Was when we went to Waterworld

  At Wilmington-on-Sea.

  We swam and splashed in the salt-sea pool,

  And went on every ride,

  But the best part of the holiday

  Was when Grandma blocked the slide.

  The Cosmic Whirl at Waterworld,

  Is really, really high,

  It twists and turns like a slippery snake,

  And reaches to the sky.

  Well, Grandma thought she’d try it

  And she clambered to the top,

  Then she starting sliding really fast,

  We thought she’d never stop!

  But the Cosmic Whirl was narrow

  And Grandma’s pretty wide.

  And soon she started slowing down,

  And then – she blocked the slide.

  She wriggled and she jiggled,

  And she struggled to be free

  But Gran was stuck in the Cosmic Whirl

  At Wilmington-on-Sea.

  The man who was behind her,

  Like a bullet from a gun,

  Set off down at such a speed

  And crashed into my gran.

  She flung herself around him,

  The poor man was garrotted,

  Then their arms and legs got tangled up

  And their bodies, they were knotted.

  There were screams
and yelps and howls for help

  As they tumbled down and down,

  And soon a crowd of swimmers

  Had gathered all around.

  Then Grandad, who was watching,

  Turned to speak to me and Mum.

  ‘Just take at look at Gran,’ he laughed.

  ‘She’s certainly having fun.’

  The lifeguard blew his whistle

  And shouted from the side.

  ‘You two out the water now,

  No messing down the slide!’

  My Monstrous Bear

  When I was small,

  My father would pretend to be a monstrous bear.

  He’d crawl about the floor on all fours

  And his great ferocious eyes

  Would stare and glare, searching for me.

  He’d roar and roar

  And growl and grunt,

  And I would hide behind the chair,

  And squeal and squirm

  And feel the hair on my head stand up,

  Excited in my fear.

  He’d pretend not to see me

  And lumber off and curl up on the rug

  And snore and snore.

  I would creep so quietly

  And snuggle up, deep between his great warm paws.

  My monstrous bear would hold me tightly

  Keeping me from harm.

  Reading Round the Class

  On Friday we have reading round the class.

  Kimberley Bloomer is the best.

  She sails slowly along the page like a great galleon

  And everyone looks up and listens.

  ‘Beautiful reading, Kimberley, dear,’ sighs Mrs Scott,