Dear Mr. Teacher,

you're not a high and mighty preacher.

Your facts are wrong and your grammar's off,

but to get an A, nothing is ever enough.

I work and I study but to much dismay,

nothing I do will ever recieve an A.

You favor the clowns and the air-heads and jocks

while the band geeeks may as well live under rocks.

You want to be popular - have everyone love you,

but  I'm suprised you don't work at a drive thru.

You assign a class paper to keep the kids busy,

because now your hangover is making you dizzy.

I really can't wait until the school year is done.

Sincerely, The Quiet One.