‘Twas the Night Before School Starts

Pequea Families,

You might want to read over this poem to practice before the big night!

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‘Twas the night before school starts
And all through the place,
Not a smile was seen
On any kid’s face.

Our bags were all stuffed
With our notebooks brand new,
And rulers and pencils
With erasers to chew.

Mournfully we
All crawled into bed,
Knowing too well
That the ‘good life’ was dead.

Then mom came in whistling
And kissed us goodnight,
With a bright cheery voice
That didn’t seem right.

The night dragged on slowly
I just couldn’t sleep,
For fear that my math teacher
Would be a real creep.

Or maybe a bully
Would give me a shove,
Or even more evil things
Than I could think of.

When from in the next room
There arose such a clamber,
My mom yelled, “I’m FREE!”
“I’m free ’till next summer!”

This must be a plot
By conspiring moms,
Who just want a break
To experience ‘calm.’

Oh, must I go through it?!
How can I go on?
I want to escape
Run off to Saigon!

Nine months is too long
To suffer through school
The classes so rough
And teachers who’re cruel.

“Come Donald! Come Conner!
Come Henry VanStation!
Come up to the board,
Do your multiplication!”

“And Julie, stop talking!
And Jimmy, wake up!
And Mary, right now,
Don’t do your makeup!”

Teachers ever are hounding
They just never quit.
You do something wrong,
They go into a fit.

And so every year
About this same time,
I lie in bed sleepless
And just moan and whine.

Until morning comes,
And I hear my mom say,
“Good luck with your school!
And have a nice day!”

~ Ron Yorgason