My job is teaching children who seldom want to learn;
They give me flak, a panic attack, a headache and heartburn.
I don't mean little rug-rats, I mean great lumbering louts;
No wonder every morning I have malingering doubts!

They push and shove and quarrel, and flash malicious looks,
And half of them don't come prepared with stationery or books.
The kids all sit there listening to their Ipods or the like,
Or chatting on their mobile phones to Sam and Chris and Mike.

That new kid fresh from juvie's having trouble sitting still,
And Casey's teasing Anna, who takes it out on Jill,
While Jill won't sit with Amber, 'cos she's got a crush on Bruce;
This class is like a battleground, I'd like to call a truce!

Some kids just need a cuddle, and some I'd like to flay;
Too bad I can't do either, or I'd soon be on my way.
Like Pavlov's dogs I'm waiting for the ringing of the bell,
The signal of salvation, the escape from daily Hell.

The hours seem rather cushy and the holidays are great,
But tons of bloody marking keeps me sitting up till late.
The principal keeps adding another task to do;
I must be a pastoral carer and a nurse and nanny too!

I never get a lunchtime, there's barely time to pee,
As I seek elusive smokers who lurk behind a tree.
There's meetings every other day and most go on for ages,
Professional reading also, of several thousand pages.

Community involvement is a brand new expectation;
Oh, my brain is getting tired I could do with a vacation.
My jaw goes slack, my eyelids droop, I start to swoon and squirm;
When will this day be over, the first one of the term?!