The School Teacher

I would love to go to work a bit relaxed and a bit late

 When the milkman is yet to get up and cycle his way.

 But no matter what, I must dash out of my house gate

 Or else I will suffer a cut in my already meagre pay

 O a bitter reality, I must say.

But to leave home hurriedly each morning,

 O it really fills me with utter dismay

 As I would not return home till evening,

 exhausted after a long and tiring day;

 This is a routine I wearily follow every day.

Ah! The children at school, mischievous and restless;

 Fill me with anxiety as I manage a teeming classroom.

 Back to back periods, the endless work leaves me breathless.

 Charming is the 'free period' I get to spend in the staffroom

 Relaxed and refreshed, I soon rush out like a new broom.

How can a teacher with genuine spirit, willing to guide, 

 With all fairness, eager to teach and keen to lead

 Feel happy about the work –a deep sense of pride

 If burdened with late sittings and workload so wide

 And must also smother the displeasure surging inside.

O managers and directors, if schools are to emulate

 A pattern-strict and stern, the same as the corporate job

 Then teachers too shall suffer the same terrible fate

 Over worked with high level of stress, and tales of sob

 dead on the feet, with a heart too fatigued to throb.

How can we be happy and teach with joy?

 The bright faces look up to us for lessons and more;

 With a choked schedule, in force to destroy

 Our energies, vivacities that form our very core. 

 Teaching is a choice one mustn't lament or deplore.

        (Inspired by "The School boy by William Blake)