Where do all the teachers go?
by Peter Dixon
Where do all the teachers go
When its four o’clock?
Do they live in houses
And do they wash their socks?
Do they wear pyjamas
And do they watch TV?
And do they pick their noses
The same as you and me?
Do they live with other people
Have they mums and dads?
And were they ever children
And were they ever bad?
Did they ever, never spell right
Did they ever make mistakes?
Were they punished in the corner
If they pinched the chocolate flakes?
Did they ever lose their hymn books
Did they ever leave their greens?
Did they ever scribble on the desk tops
Did they wear old dirty jeans?
I’ll follow one back home today
I’ll find out what they do
Then I’ll put it in a poem
That they can read to you.
Ah my little one, you leave the pre-school years behind you and set off in the rough and tumble, competitive world. No-one to re-apply your sun-screen, wipe your face or gently usher you through your day. Big kids, big spaces and bad attitudes. Navigate your way with care my love.
