First day, and I can tell
the way you speak,

your lessons smell.

 
Your voice is meek,
 
your name is bland.
 
You stand up straight,
 
you think you're grand!
 
 
Next week, lesson two,
 
completely lost.
 
What do we do?
 
You're like Jack Frost;
 
you're so, so cold,
 
impersonal...
 
Have you no soul?
 
 
 
At your desk, a surprise
 
though nothing's neat,
 
nor organized,
 
you saw her cheat
 
you heard him cuss,
 
it's not your fault
 
they missed the bus.
 
 
 
Really now, you're correct?
 
You should have known
 
what to expect.
 
We say yes, you say no.
 
We're teenagers,
 
we want to go!
 
 
 
You do not teach
 
you simply show.
 
You came to preach
 
you think you know.
 
Can't you infer,
 
that we can't see
 
a lesson taught so pitifully?