All those years of play parks, museums and dance displays
have left me with the utmost respect for nursery workers and teachers.
As I sway away to have a swim, meet friends for coffee,
they’re keeping kids safe, responding when they’re naughty.
I mean, how do they manage a class of twenty of more,
teaching them things that they’ve never done before?
And then they go to secondary school, make new friends,
have a laugh and a joke at the teacher’s expense.
Then the teachers meet us, the parents giving up their evening
to let us all know how our babies are doing.
There’s the parents who take more than their time slot,
‘cos their child is so special, the teacher’s face red and very hot!
There’s a pint with their name on it, down in the pub,
her mates are all finished, and they’re ordering grub.
They don’t get paid extra for these bloody meetings;
in fact just before them, everyone’s greeting.
So all you parents who complain about teachers,
thinking that your kids deserve better,
try doing their job for a couple of months, it’ll change your mind.
At the next parents’ evening you’ll be pleasant and kind.
If not, maybe you should try some home schooling,
you’ll quickly realise its yourself you are fooling.
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