Goodbye to Class Two
I’d like to introduce to you
a teacher of class two, Miss Pugh .
Her school is called the Hermitage
and she, you know, is quite a sage.
She knows the facts of history -
for her there is no mystery
of why the British Empire fell
or why the Romans had to quell
rebellion in a foreign land,
before the strife got out of hand.
Miss Pugh devotes her every hour
and exercises all her power
to educate the boys and girls
and feed them facts and little pearls
of wisdom as each day unfurls.
But, sad for her, the girls and boys
no longer bring her many joys.
In times gone by the kids would sit
and never joke or be a twit.
They’d listen to her every word
And no-one moved or even stirred.
But things are definitely worse
In fact, it’s almost the reverse.
To make my meaning very clear
I’ll have to introduce the class, I fear -
fifteen of them, in all. ‘Miss Pugh’
I hear you mutter, ‘Why so few?’
Miss Pugh looks very, very sad
‘The kids today are barking mad.
In days gone by I handled forty
but now they all are far too naughty.’
The first to spring to mind is Fred,
the fidget who she’s come to dread.
All day he wriggles in his chair
until at last she does declare:
‘Please sit still, I’m getting dizzy!’
‘My trousers, Miss, are very fizzy!
I need to take them off right now,’
says Fred who’s heading for a row.
‘You can’t,’ she says, ‘that’s not allowed,’
anyone would think you had a crowd
Of tiny midges or little ants
Crawling around in your underpants.
And then there’s Nick who can’t behave -
he has been known to rant and rave.
He throws a tantrum on the floor
or rushes headlong for the door.
She tries in vain to calm him down
but then he starts to play the clown.
He pokes the others in the back
or gives his friends a mighty whack.
She fixes him with icy glare
and says to him, ‘Now don’t you dare!’
‘I’m hyper-active, Miss,’ he says,
‘no-one can cure my dreadful ways.’
Sitting right in front is Jack
But usually she sees his back.
He’s always bent on playing tricks
From the desk behind, a pen he nicks
Or across the class his rubber flicks
Then on someone’s back a post-it sticks.
Once he brought a mouse to school
-he thought himself so very cool.
He placed it carefully on her chair,
I tell you it was such a scare!
She screamed so loud the Head came running
Really, Miss Pugh, most unbecoming!
This class is verging on a riot
Please try to keep them much more quiet’
Cheeky Tom always answers back
And seems to be always on the attack.
His favourite question is always ‘Why?’
Sometimes Miss Pugh would like to cry.
‘Because I say so,’ Miss Pugh shouts,
‘you’re nothing but a load of louts.’
Matthew Price just doesn’t like work
Instead he’d rather rest and shirk
When Matthew’s faced with any task
You can be certain he'll always ask
‘Miss Pugh, do we really have to?’
Or, ‘I think it’s time to visit the loo.’
Miss Pugh says, ‘Matthew, you’re driving me crazy.
Why do you have to be so lazy?’
Matthew replies, ‘Miss, it must be genetic
In my house nobody's frenetic.’
You may think girls are far more calm
But the girls of class two are lacking in charm.
First there’s Samantha, who likes to be clean
And has airs and graces fit for a queen.
When Miss Pugh says ‘time to paint.’
Samantha says ‘I’m feeling faint’
‘I don’t want to get my fingers dirty.’
‘Oh, really, Samantha, stop being so shirty.’
Wicked Jack thinks it’s time for a trick -
some ink on the back of Sam’s shirt he’ll flick.
That’ll teach her to like being clean.
It’s just his nature to be so mean.
Rachel Smith is a tell-tale-tit.
She’s always got some little bit
of gossip on her friends in class.
She’d make a splendid supergrass.
‘Miss Pugh, he took my special toy.’
‘Miss Pugh I saw her hit that boy’
‘Miss Pugh he poked me in the back.’
‘Miss Pugh he gave me such a smack.’
On and on and on she prattled
Until Miss Pugh became quite rattled.
‘Stop telling tales, you silly girl.
My head is getting in a whirl.’
Then there’s Chiku, whose name means chatter
and boy does she natter and natter and natter.
She hardly ever is silent at school.
Miss Pugh finds it hard to keep her cool.
‘Shut up and listen, you naughty child.
Your constant chat is driving me wild.’
Just next to Chiku sits Manju, her mate
Who always arrives an hour late.
‘She’s late, Miss Pugh,’ shouts Rachel the sneak.
‘I know, I can see,’ Miss Pugh starts to shriek.
The other children are all as bad
And make Miss Pugh feel really mad.
There’s loud-mouthed Kate who likes to boss
Which makes the other children cross,
Dan, the bully, who has no qualms
About causing other children harm.
Cry-baby Mark who’s often in tears,
nasty Nora who always jeers,
clever Harry who knows every fact,
who can multiply, add, divide, subtract.
‘I’d like to contradict, Miss Pugh.
What you’ve told us just isn’t true.’
He thinks he knows more than the teacher!’
He’s such an odious little creature.
Her favourite child is Ashish Patel,
the only one who behaves quite well.
But every time she says, ‘Ashish’
cheeky Tom will always screech,
“Bless you Miss Pugh!” and the class will roar.
Poor Miss Pugh wants to be out of the door.
One day Miss Pugh could stand no more.
‘Class two,’ she said, with a mighty roar,
‘you are the worst I’ve ever taught.
My nerves, I think, are overwrought.
I’ll tell the Head I’ve had enough,
her little pupils she can stuff.
I’m out of here as soon as poss.
Who teaches you I don’t give a toss.
Why should I suffer all this stress?
Enough’s enough I must confess.
I shall enjoy the rest of life,
not suffer here in all this strife.
I’ll do the things I’ve never done
and start to have a lot of fun.
I’ll scream and shout and get my way
and stand my ground, come what may.
I’ll stand at the gate at the end of school day
and flick rubbers and papers at all in my way.
I’ll splash ink on Jack’s shirt,
cover Samantha with dirt,
put ants down Fred’s pants,
call Matt a spoilt brat,
give Nick a good kick
on Chiku’s lips put clips.
I’ll chew gum and smoke backy
And wear clothes that are whacky
A hat with a feather, black trousers of leather
High-heeled shoes, whatever the weather.
I’ll spit in the street
Swear at police on the beat
I’ll read Beano and Dandy
Eat chocolate and candy
And drink double brandy.
When Miss Pugh had finished her rave
class two were silent as the grave.
They’d always thought she was slightly dotty
but now she’d gone completely potty.
She packed her books in her old black bag,
so heavy it was it started to sag.
‘Good-bye, class two,’ she said with a smile,
‘I’m sorry to say it, but you are all vile.
Your names I won’t treasure,
it has not been a pleasure
so good riddance and here’s to my leisure!
