A TEACHER’S LOT

(To the tune of “A Policeman’s Lot” from The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan)

When you’re staring down a class of 7th graders

And your heart is dancing somewhere round your throat

You think you’d rather wrestle alligators

And you’re eyeing longingly your hat and coat

One kid is folding up a paper airplane

That he plans to aim directly at your head

Oh, it’s Beth Shalom (insert your synagogue here) another Sunday morning

That makes me wish that I had stayed in bed

When educating children’s to be done

A Teacher’s Lot is not an easy one.

When a parent tells you that his child’s a genius

And for every other teacher he’s been good

He will swear you are the very soul of meanness

When you tell him that his child’s a little hood.

He will shrug when you inform him of the spitballs

And passing notes is simply stock in trade

Oh this is just a short list of the pitfalls

Face by a teacher of the seventh grade.

When educating children’s to be done

A Teacher’s Lot is not an easy one.