A thank you to your family, for lending us your heart.
Your heart must be ginormous for you gave each child a part.
The thing about a teacher’s heart: the more they give away,
The more they have to give again, each and every day.
You’ve shared your love of reading and number magic too.
But the best thing that they’ll take away, is memories of you.
It isn’t just the facts they know that make them feel more clever.
(There may be just a thing or two will stick with them for ever.)
You might have taught them eight times eight; cleared sick up off the floor.
They’ve memorised times tables; but you’ve taught them so much more.
For when these kids find life gets tough (and sometimes life can stink)
You taught these children how to love, and showed them how to think.
And there’s a chance that years from now, although they’ve no idea how,
They’ll give that tough job one more try, or spread their wings and really fly
Because of something that you said; just one kind word that’s in their head.
And lit a spark
And banished dark.
And that’s the real treasure: that SATs can never measure:
You taught them how to add (and help a friend who’s sad);
You taught them how to write (and lit their inner light);
You gave them skills they’re going to need
(And in each heart you sowed a seed).
It’s not just stuff they need to know,
You gave them tools they need to grow.
If you reflect
You might detect
They taught you some stuff too
And you might find
In heart and mind
They’ve left their mark on you.
thou art the worm in the heart of education
You’ve turned into a parasite
Clinging on with all your might.
You’re poison slowly drip drip dripping.
You’re strangle ivy grimly gripping.
You are a Wrong.
But we are strong.
We’ll get better
and when we do
You’ll publicise your twisted view
That this strength came because of you.
You’ll whisper in the MPs ear,
“The schools are bad, you need us here.”
And who, at schools, can say, “Not true,
It’s not because but despite you.”
You knocked us down, sewed seeds of doubt.
You took our best, and threw it out.
It’s us that finds the strength to try
To squeeze more blood from stones run dry.
It’s teachers turn up every day
Shine lights in worlds that you’ve turned grey.
Through fear, we dance this grey man’s dance
Too scared to point out there’s a chance
The true fault’s how it’s all assessed.
The standard is a faulty test
That values just what it can measure
And takes no count of real treasure,
Like open minds, and hearts excited
Passions lit, fires ignited.
There must be better ways than this –
HMI’s dementor kiss.
One day I hope the world gets wise
To OfSTED’s dark self-serving lies.