My mother gave this poem to me when I first started teaching. I look at it at least once a year.
Before the Class Comes Marching In (Author unknown)
Well, Father, what do You think?
The room looks nice, doesn’t it?
Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. Relax.
Today is the first day of school.
And—depending on the class I get—
today could seem
like the first day of the rest of my life.
That’s the funny thing about classes,
isn’t it, Lord?
I mean, the Class
seems to have a personality all its own,
in addition to all the personalities in it.
The whole being greater
than the sum of its parts, and all that.
What do you think—
the room looks nice, doesn’t it?
I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Lord,
and there are two messages
I want to get across right from the start:
I believe in you!
Together we can have
a delightful year
of learning and growth!”
“Nobody messes with me, kid!”
I think that just about covers it, Lord!
Breate in. Br—
Oh! There’s the bell.
Just one more thing, Lord.
You’re not going anyplace are You?
More anon, dear ones. ¡Ciao!