My Teachers by D. K., East Boston, MA

Yes, we understood what you taught this morning. While you were teaching, the dust of the chalk fell on your hair. Your lessons, like poems, gave us the great dreams about our future. We always remember the first lesson that you taught. It was about our country and ancestors.

Now, the dust of the chalk is still falling on your hair when you teach; it makes you look older. Yes, you are older and older by your care to our future.

Later, in our future, how can we forget your lessons? The time is slowly passing; everything is changing, but you and your lessons are always in our heart. Oh, my teachers. Follow a song.