An ideal teacher is idle never,
Not violent and silent ever,
Though the heart is even gloomy,
Always on face is only glory.
Rise up the pupils in her hands holy,
And dim your sorrows if any, much coolly
Parents, you hold your heads very high,
For your wards will fly, wide in the sky.
A loving front of all the colleagues,
A lovely mother of children she guides.
For the dangerous word ‘quarrel’,
She keeps no road in mind to travel.
Her selfless ‘self’ has a tremendous wealth,
A wealth of concern for child, she helps.
The saving she makes in her account,
Nothing less than affection profound.
Children give her reverence much,
With a gesture of adoring the most.
Heavy-felt subjects turn to be light,
Through the teacher’s tongue so sweet.
‘Great’ is the accolade the parents award,
Really worthier than any other reward.
The necklace ‘sincerity’ well suits her,
Since keeps she no sin in wallet, ever.
Though her hair in years gets grey,
Ever remains her hand in work, green.
Rays of smile that appear on her lips,
Wipe of the young ones’ all the lapses.
The voice is quite smooth and soft too,
Yet very firm and strong and smart.
Never she spares any rod in class,
That may spoil a child, alas!
Clouds of problems in life personal,
Affect in no way her duty official.
When she opens the safe of experience,
She can enjoy her hard work’s price.