At The School Gate

By Paul Mc Cann

There is a weekday ritual to which I can relate .
The primary school at three o'clock ,
waiting at the gate .
The who's who and the what's new of our small community,
as children come out from school inhibitedly free .
They are looking for a face,
to be there it is great .
As all the Mums and Dads stand there ,
I join them at the gate .
I reach out with both my arms to greet my little son .
We walk to where the car is parked ,
before the buses come .
As it happens once again ,
school has finished for the day .

School Poems

The Miracle of The Beginning Reader
I wiggle and jiggle
And rock upon my chair.
I wiggle my loose tooth,
And I twirl a strand of hair.

I chew on several fingers
And I sometimes suck my thumb.
I tap the reading table
Like I'd play upon a drum.

I kick my foot with rhythm
Lose the place where I should look.
I rub my nose and clear my throat,
And sometimes drop my book.

I look outside the window
And I look down at the floor,
I pay very close attention
When someone's at the door.

I close my eyes and rest my head;
My teacher's heart must bleed.