it has to be in your head that way
maybe, for it to be right
i’ve had so much scrumbled up
no doubt
it has to be right
in your head
maybe
fifteen three to five year olds are asleep
two teachers teach
i have enough time to write
at least this
it has to be in your head that way
maybe, for it to be right
i’ve had so much scrumbled up
no doubt
it has to be right
in your head
maybe
fifteen three to five year olds are asleep
two teachers teach
i have enough time to write
at least this
Christ was a child
we know for sure
I hope he was the riley one
made to rule when all they begged him
was to listen
I hope his cries shined and shined
mocking every plan his parents had
I hope when they knew
they looked back
and knew
he was just like James, and John
and all the boys they knew
but now, they knew, which parts were God in them
and which parts
were God’s parts too
I notice that the more I treat children how I would treat adults
the more other teachers accuse me of “babying” the children
how dare I give them a choice
how dare I not force them to sit down and shut up
how dare I let them tell me “no” and explain their reason why
how dare I, you know,
let them grow
for every minute you’re teaching them
you need two
of play togethering
for every time they look up at you
or come and find you
you need two
where you saw and found them first
for every project you make them do
you need two
invented on their own
and when all eleven voices
are begging for attention
you need twenty two separate times
you offered them attention first
whatever you ask of them
twice as much
you must give
and from whatever love you put in
twice as much
you will get