Another year in the same old place.
All the same, yet with a different face.
And as each child finds their way to your room;
Some have hope, while a few bring gloom.
Some arrive beaming, as light from a star,
others wonder just where they are.
Yet no matter what each young child brings,
they’ve found some hope to make them sing.
A year in their lives they never would trade;
a year they will cherish…second grade.
They’ll look back one day and fondly remember
the love and nurture of a second grade teacher.
Beautiful poem. This gets to me because my beautiful little granddaughter started first grade this year. She hasn't really expressed her feelings, except to say, "oh, you know", after being asked how was school. I suppose she'll come up with something better later.
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