School bell sonata

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32536, 20 February 1971, Page 11

School bell sonata

By

G. A. Pollock

Who’d be a teacher—please, one at a time! Salaries now are beginning to climb; Militant pressure has won its success— Parity’s with us—no more and no less. Doctors and lawyers no longer look down With lofty contempt on the pedagogue’s gown. Other advantages stay as before— One month’s paid holiday out of each four. Duties as easy as status is high; Who’d teach a school? Those in favour say “I.”

Yet, ere you rush your decision to join, Look at the opposite side of the coin. Out in the country, when serving your turn, You will deserve every penny you earn. Clubs and societies, youth work and bands All need the succour of unsparing hands. Others have tasks that demand their whole care— Teachers are known to have time and to spare. So, when a tedious job is in view, Who’ll be elected? It’s bound to be you.

Back in the city you sigh with relief, Only to meet with a new kind of grief. You with some sort of control must install Children brought up without any at all. Rules now proscribe the infliction of pain— Gone the deterrent of strap and of cane. (Barbaric, perhaps; but it did have a place When friendly persuasion fell flat on its face.) If at this task you contrive not to faint Someone will lodge a parental complaint.

Decency dying, and discipline dead, Children all follow where parents have led. Yet, when the courts bring a story of shame, Never the home, but the school is to blame. Who’d be a teacher? You’ll fill in your day Holding a pack of young terrors at bay; Guiding the turbulent brats at their play; Writing and posting report sheets away; Keeping the peace at the school P.T.A. A life time of extras, with no extra pay— Who’d be a teacher?