Ghetto Classroom

Boys with deep voices
The mind of a child
Boys who made poor choices
Boys running wild

Get to the classroom
First thing in the morn
They can’t settle down
My nerves already worn

Yelling and screaming
Raising holy hell
Lord take me away from here
My head’s in a swell

Running everywhere
Just like something wild
All I can do
Is cast an evil eye

Beating on the walls
Beating on the desks
Beating in the halls
Lord, I’ve tried my best!

Forgotten why I’m here
I can’t concentrate
Objectives not clear
I don’t want to hate

A job I used to love
Struggled to achieve
Invested countless hours
My teaching degree.

Now I can’t help feeling
It was all for naught
My intelligence is being wasted on
A bunch of hoodlums who don’t even want to be taught.
 
 
 
Copyright 2005 by Charlotte A. Clark-Frieson
This article was composed and written by Charlotte A. Clark-Frieson, and appeared in the September 16, edition of The People’s Voice African American Weekly News (http://www.peoplesvoiceonline.com/).   This article may be reprinted with permission from the author:
Charlotte A. Clark-Frieson
email:  caclarkfrieson@msn.com
322 Wilkie Clark Drive
Roanoke, Alabama 36274
334-863-4885
334-338-1149