A Teacher’s Day- in and out!

                                               

    

The clock- cock crows ‘ding-dong’

The eyeballs like football ‘roll and roll’

The leg-wings bring the body to the kitchen

The kitchen door opens wide with a ‘bur.’

 The feet of the teacher touch no floor,

 For they are the first seed tennis players.

 From kitchen-store to the storage cold

 The teacher dances a ’Kutchipudi’ grand.

 The time when turns eight in the morning,

The meals get arranged ready in the dining.

One likes ‘Dossa’, one likes ‘Idli’, another yet

Shows no deal without ‘chappatis’ hot.

Pulling the  bag from the stand at the top

The teacher carries her body to the bus stop.

The ‘ton- ton' of the first bell receives the teacher

And the lub-dub of her heart goes undetected.

The children's hubbub, a Pandora’s Box opens ;

Her sweet- word-keys locks the box well.

Here comes God the student-centric learning

To adopt in teaching, modern modes and methods.

What does the producer mean by the words?

God even knows not the exact sense.

Apply the authorities their fanciful thoughts;

Link them no way to meaningful learning.

The teachers are just like the blind men four.

Some say,” It is the trunk of the elephant,
 ‘No-no’ another says, " It is the tail so long”.

Others opine, “Winnowing ears or pillar-like legs.”

 Knows the teacher the exact mould  

To shape the young minds present in class.

The body forms a simple pendulum 

Oscillating up down and left and right.

The extra-work gift is the gratuity,
Greeting the teacher in her activity.

From up, hang the do’s and don’ts 

And her will and wit follow she can't.

As her head gets meddled with a hell,

The clock strikes the strokes of relief.

No doubt, a teacher soulful with spirit

And so is visible her tangible zeal.

The clock- cock crows ‘ding-dong’

The eyeballs like football ‘roll and roll’

The leg-wings bring the body to the kitchen

The kitchen door opens wide with a ‘bur.’

 The feet of the teacher touch no floor,

 For they are the first seed tennis players.

 From kitchen-store to the storage cold

 The teacher dances a ’Kutchipudi’ grand.

 The time when turns eight in the morning,

The meals get arranged ready in the dining.

One likes Dosa, one likes Idli, another yet

Has no agreement without Chappatis hot.

Pulling the bag from the stand at the top

The teacher carries her body to the bus stop.

The ton- ton of the first bell receives the teacher

And the lub-dub of her heart goes undetected.

Hubbub by children, a Pandora’s Box opens ;

Her sweet- word-keys lock the box well.

Here comes God, the student-centric learning

To adopt in the teaching, most modern methods.

What does the producer mean by modern?

God even knows not the exact sense.

Apply the authorities their fanciful thoughts;

Link them they, no way to meaningful learning.

The teachers are just like the blind men four.

Some say,” It is the trunk of the elephant,

 "No-no", some say, "It is the tail so long.”

And others say, “Winnowing ears or pillar-like legs.”

 Knows the teacher the exact mould  

To shape the young minds present in class.

The body forms a Simple Pendulum 

Oscillating up down and left and right.

The extra-work gift is the gratuity,

Greeting the teacher in her activity.

From up, hang the do's and don’ts 

And her will and wit follow she can not.

As her head gets meddled with a hell,

The clock strikes the strokes of relief.

No doubt, a teacher is soulful with spirit

And so is visible her tangible zeal.

 Her body flight at three o'clock,  takes off, 

And it does land at the land of her home.

The body seeks the kitchen corner

To see the completion of the day’s work left.

Ten is the time when she nears mother Sleep

And the mother fondles her keeping in lap.

“Oh! God, if you grant me a birth another,”

She prays, “Make me sure a teacher again.”

  

 

Her body flight, takes off three o'clock 

And it lands at the land of her dear home.

The body seeks the kitchen corner

To see the completion of the day’s work left.

Ten is the time when she nears mother ‘Sleep’

And the mother fondles her keeping in lap.

“Oh! God if you grant me a birth another,”

She prays, “Make me sure a teacher again.”

Sarala.