I climb on a chair
To brush my hair
Cause the mirror is too high up.
My teeth feel grimy.
I’ll make them shiny
With toothpaste I keep in a cup.
Next is my face.
What a disgrace!
Warm water will do the trick.
“There’s cheese on my chin,”
I say with a grin.
Then wipe it off real quick.
I’m excited today.
I’m ready to play.
And now I look pretty cool.
I jump on the floor,
And head to the door.
“Muumm, I’m ready for school!”
Image from Vecteezy
My very favourite time in class
is when we’re having spelling.
‘Cause that’s the time our teacher’s face
turns red from constant yelling.
“Those words were in your homework.
Ten times you wrote them out.
This class will be the end of me.
Why must you make me shout?
I’ll telephone your parents.
Your nonsense will be ended.
I’ll send you to the Principal
and have you all suspended.
I’ll ban you from the library.
There’ll be no more free reading.
Until you prove to me that
with your homework you’re succeeding.
No class time toilet visits.
You’ll have to just be strong.
No music, art, or play time
when you get your spellings wrong.
By now the teacher’s pacing.
His breathing is quite fast.
And all the kids are placing bets
on how long he can last.
Then finally it’s over
and he sits down at his table.
We know he’d like to say some more
but right now he’s not able.
That’s when we all begin to clap
And “Bravo !” someone shouts.
We’ll all do better next time Sir.
Of that there are no doubts.
The teacher asks “You promise?
In that case I’ll stop yelling.”
Oh yes! My favourite time in class
is when we’re having spelling.
The rain is dancing down the street,
across the park and up the lane.
It’s teeming where I stand to meet
the clickety-clackety morning train.
The rain is hammering on the rooves
and causing such a fuss.
It’s drenching where I stand to meet
the braking quaking bus.
The rain is splashing on the ground
creating puddles deep.
To get to where I need to be
I’ve got to hop and leap.
The rain is filling all the creeks.
The gutters run with foam.
It’s wet day lunch at school today,
I think I’ll just stay home.
I’d soon be walking through that door,
I’d waited all those years.
But nothing had prepared me for
that sudden flood of tears.
As one who loves to seize the day,
who takes whatever comes,
I couldn’t wait to get away
from all those weeping mums.
Photo from Pexels.com by Ksenia Chernaya
Don’t make me go to school today,
Please! Anything but that!
I’ll tidy up my bedroom,
I’ll be gentle with the cat…
I’ll do the dishes for a week,
(I’ll soak the saucepans too),
But please don’t make me go to school –
That place is like a zoo.
The kids are really mean to me,
They call me nasty names
Like ‘legend in a lunch box’ when
I interrupt their games.
And when they see me coming,
They spread out like peanut paste,
I feel like I’m some fungal growth,
Some noxious toxic waste.
So please don’t make me go to school,
I’ll sulk and whine and sob,
So WHAT if I’m the Principal!
I want a different job!
A big girl of four and a young boy of two
were walking with their mum and dad through the zoo.
To see all the animals made both children smile
but it also made them tired so they stopped for a while.
They snacked on some treats that mum made before
when dad pointed out something that he saw:
a group of fish swimming around in a pool.
“Did you know,” the dad said, “that they call that a school.”
“I’ll go to school soon,” said little Miss Four.
“Me too,” said the boy – it was hard to ignore.
It was clear to the parents that their little boy
would miss his big sister. It gave them no joy.
And so they decided, that they must set things straight
before it got out of hand, before it was too late.
“Not yet,” said the dad. “It’s just not your turn,
you’re not old enough to go to school and learn.”
“The boy started crying, he just didn’t get
that he wasn’t quite ready to go to school yet.
He was a ‘big boy’, a baby no more –
why couldn’t he go to school with Miss Four?
“It’s ok, son,” said the mum. “Dry your tears,
you won’t go to school for a couple more years.
There’s a number of things you must learn before
you can go to school with little Miss Four.”
“That’s right,” said the dad. “I can think of some.
Like, you must no longer wear a nappy on your bum.
And while you know your whole alphabet
There are other things that you need to learn yet.”
“Just think,” added mum, “about how well you count
but you only know up to a certain amount.
You can do up to ten but little Miss Four
can count to 100 and sometimes even more.”
The tears had dried up, a change had occurred.
The young boy was now hanging on every word.
“And plus,” said the mum, “it isn’t all bad,
you’ll get to stay with me without Miss Four and Dad.”
“Just think of all of the games that we’ll play
and the fun things we’ll do when it’s just us all day.
We’ll get to bake cookies and sing songs and draw,
then we’ll walk up to the school to pick up Miss Four.”
“Ok,” said the boy and he started to grin
but Miss Four had been listening and she wanted in.
“That’s not fair,” she said. “I want to stay home.”
Then Mum and Dad let out a collective groan.
It didn’t seem like they could win either way
and so they left this fight for another day.
Thought I might stay
Home today.
Safe.
Secure.
Did you now?
Thought I might
Miss you,
too
Much.
Did you now?
Thought maybe
Cos’ you’re smart,
You could
Homeschool me?
Did you now?
The house needs
A vacuum.
Doggy doo to
Be picked up,
So much work.
Didn’t you know?
Thought I might,
But now…
I think
I miss my friends.
I’ll go get ready.
You go do that now.
Australian Children’s Poetry 
