Taking Stock

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Welcome to our superstore

There’s everything you’ll ever need and more

Essential items are on display

Such as all the ingredients for Pancake Day

We’ll sell you lemons, sugar, eggs

But be aware we're running out of flour bags

We've sandwiches and ornate bowls

Alas, there are no toilet rolls 

There’s Easter eggs and potted plants

and frozen peas and underpants

And barbecues and packs of beer,

(Remember summer's almost here)

There’s ready meals to sink a ship

Buy one get one free, but be quick

There’s cod and hake and Dover sole,

But we’ve completely out of toilet roll

We do though, stock the Daily Mail

And other tabloids are on sale

And you can purchase all you need

From vegetables to packs of seed

There's a hundred different kinds of bread

Or you could try our cakes instead

But some things are beyond our control

For instance, there’s no toilet roll

Our goods are neatly piled in stacks

Select your items from the racks

Our special offers wait for you

From kitchenware to ladies shoes

Slashing prices you can’t ignore

Your trolley full, no room for more

But the panic buyers took their toll

We’re sorry, there’s no toilet roll

Steve Wheeler © 12 April, 2020

IF...

(with apologies to Rudyard Kipling)

If you can please the Head when all about you
Are losing hope and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when parents doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can teach and not be tired by teaching,
Surviving on four hours of sleep each night;
And work through evenings and the weekends
And still be full of energy and fight;

If you can plan, but not make plans your master;
If you can grade, but not make grades your aim;
If you can meet with Ofsted and the governors,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to see reports you’ve written
Credited to others in your team;
Or see the mug your mother gave you, broken,
In the staffroom, in the bin;

If you can manage the school’s website
Deal with the crashes, trolls and hacks
Maintain the school’s online presence
Through mass denial of service attacks;
If you can lead your students on a school trip,
And always turn an eye that’s blind;
To tolerate high spirited behaviour,
Returning later, no child left behind;

If you can tweet and post yet keep your virtue,
Nor block or unfollow those who disagree;
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
At least not so that anyone can see;

If you can fill that unforgiving lesson
With sixty minutes worth of learning blend,

Yours is the classroom and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a teacher, my friend!

20 November, 2019

Nought

Every morning you wake

All the love you can fake

All the hearts that you break

All the pain you can take

Every ache you can ache

Every noise you can make

All the mud you can rake

Every wager you stake

Every game that you play

All the insults you say

All the fears kept at bay

Every bill that you pay

Every time that you stray

Every hour in the day

All the prayers that you pray

Every time you delay

All the lies you can spin

Every battle you win

All the smiles you can grin

Every sin you can sin

Every mile you can walk

All the victims you stalk

All the words you can talk

Every blackboard you chalk

Every user you troll

All the votes you can poll

Every item you stole

And the dice that you roll

All the wages you earn

And the bridges you burn

All the heads that you turn

And the lessons you learn

Every place you can go

And the things you can know

All the chances you blow

All the tantrums you throw

All the times you say no

All the seeds that you sow

In the sun and the snow

As above so below

Each assignment you grade

Every meal you have made

All the deals you can trade

All the dues you have paid

Every role you have played

All your knowledge conveyed

As below so above

They are nought

Without love

Steve Wheeler © 25, November, 2019

Heart of ice

Image from Wikimedia Commons

My sin

My pride

His hands

His side

My fear 

My dread

His feet

His head

My deepest stain

His grief, his pain

My heart of ice

His sacrifice

2030 hours

Steve Wheeler © 21 July, 1997