Smith's Ninth Grade Blog

Friday, February 23, 2007

2-4-6-8 Who do we appreciate: Our Teachers!

Today you are going to get into groups of 3-4 and write a ballad about school. Remember a ballad is a poem that tells a story. Make sure you are creative and as always school appropriate. Have fun with this! Don't forget to post your group's poem as well as comment on others.


At February 25, 2007 11:25 AM, Blogger DylanB said...

School Ballad
By Dylan Bida and Alex Barker

School is not cool
You must be a fool
To think school is cool
It is not a fun thing
It is kind of hard to hang

the food there is not very good
those that eat it i cant believe you would
going of campus for lunch is the way to go
you can go to great places like Piccolos

Sports is one thing that makes school better
If you are good at them you can letter
then you can have one of those nice jackets to show everybody
i bet they’re also quite comfy

As you can see school isn’t the best
sometimes it can be a big mess
but it is something that has to be done
unfortunately it is not that fun

At February 25, 2007 4:41 PM, Blogger connorf said...

Dylan and Alex, I don't think that hang and thing rhyme.

At February 25, 2007 8:27 PM, Blogger KaylaC said...

I also think that go and Piccolos don't rhyme but other than that your guys' was good and creative.

At February 26, 2007 9:38 AM, Blogger ashleighc said...

By Deirdre Clark (AKA Dr.Dre) and Ashleigh C.

Up at five
Take a dive
Into a shower
With water freezing

Come out with a shiver
Making sure not to create a river
Hurry with hair
Trying to give a care

Put on clothing
And run for the bus
Sit with a friend
And follow the trend

Put things in locker
And take what’s needed
Talk with more people
While listening for the bell

Run for class, because you’re late
For a very important date
Take a seat near the back
Take some notes, just to keep track

Zone in and out
Write down the homework
Pack things away
And do it six times a day

After three classes
It’s time for lunch
Grab your whole group
And go across the street

Decide on one place
And go wait in line
Get some food
Then it’s right back to school

Three more classes
Then the day is done
Stay after for a while
Some friends want to reconcile

Call a parent
To get a ride home
Do some homework
And talk on the phone

Finish conversations
And learn something new
Say your goodnights
Then log of myspace

Time for bed
Another early morning
Pull the sheets to your head
And snuggle up warm

Set the alarm
Then fall into dream land
Hear the loud beeping
And you’re done sleeping

Smack down the button,
Rub the sleep from your eyes
And get out of bed
It’s time to do it again

At February 26, 2007 9:45 AM, Blogger connorf said...

Dylan and Alex, I also don't think that everybody and comfy rhyme.

At February 26, 2007 7:12 PM, Blogger KaylaC said...

By Kayla Cederstrom, Sarah Wilson,and Lyndsey Davis

School is a place that I despise
Though it will help us with the rest of our lives
I’d rather be in a cool pool
Than go to school

School isn’t all that bad
But the homework is what makes us mad
After school you have no time
Because you have to meet a dead line

Nobody realizes that every year
Everything gets tougher and that causes us great fear
We have no drive
Except for the want to survive

Also no one knows what the future has to give
And so no one has the warrantee to live
The future holds us in its hands
Not our educations so let us roam our own lands

School shouldn’t grade us on our abilities
For we put in the effort and try to succeed
All we need to have is the knowledge
So if we do our homework and attempt to learn
Then why don’t we get the A we deserve

Everyday when we go to school
We catch ourselves in the drool
For we repeat the same schedule almost every day
All we do is learn how to do something in a different way
So what is the reason?
To go to school every season

At February 26, 2007 8:23 PM, Blogger zacha said...

Yes, the last line does not rhyme in each stanza.

Zach Atwood, Hunter Hall, Colby Kleusner

I went to school
It wasn’t cool
I yelled at a teacher
I got sent to the preacher
Some kid beat me up
I drank from a cup
But the cup was all the way empty.

I went home and cried
Because I lied
I told the preacher I was sick
He called me a hick
We fought for hours
He gave me some flowers
Then I broke the vase.

I was sent home
My mom gave me a comb
She sent me to my room
It felt like my tomb
I couldn’t talk to anyone
I didn’t have any fun
I got suspended for 2 days.

I miss school.

At February 27, 2007 9:45 AM, Blogger Kyles said...

Kyle Sutherland
Garrett Soares
Pat Shortino
Eddie Vargas

Zombie Students

Sitting like zombie’s of slow burning fire
The students hate and scorn the bloodlust of the learning desire.
Drooling out the newly acquired information
Glazed eyes of the youth, the reflection of our nation

They rise from their hollow grave every morning
To feed upon knowledge, and tests consuming
Zombies with luminous eyes of destruction
Conducting from the grave of seduction

Through the halls of hell they walk
Each second the living dead obsesses over the clock
Looking for victims, to end their lives
Reminders of their constant suffering at the mercy of teeth like rusty knives

They are neither living nor dead
They are what you make them within your head
Teachers fear not these zombies of high school
Zombies are nothing compared to a ghoul

The final bell rings and they shed their immortal coil
They are human again, their blood ceases to boil
Yet they must attempt to remember to drooled out information
This is the bloodlust and reflection of our nation

At February 28, 2007 9:43 AM, Blogger druybal said...

It is the ultimate quest
The search for knowledge best
Often tired, little rest
Certainly, there will be a test.

Plenty of work to do
Assignments, more rather than few
Class begins right on cue
Everyday, learnings new

Lots of people to greet
Friends, this part can’t be beat
Sports, plenty of heat
Every contest, a great feat.

No matter what grade you’re in
Always be in to win
Never quit, that’s a sin
Stay focused, tune out the din.

Yeah, we’re talking about school
It’s not always a jewel
Often, it makes you drool
But sometimes, it’s really cool.

At February 28, 2007 9:44 AM, Blogger druybal said...

Druybal ballad poem: written by Quinn Booth, Connor Finley, Joe Smith, and David ruybal

At February 28, 2007 9:46 AM, Blogger druybal said...

Posting for Quinn Booth:

Most people underestimate the absolute magnificence of Mr. Spoon.
Trust me, Mr. Spoon never behaves like a buffoon.
You think John Wayne can strut his stuff.
He’s nothing compared to Mr. Spoon when he’s in the buff!

Mr. Spoon plays golf at Troon.
His swing is so smooth, he’ll beat Tiger soon.
He plays tennis with one hand in his pocket.
He hits that ball like a rocket.

Mr. Spoon, oh man, can he croon.
He makes Bono look like he can’t carry a tune.
Wait ‘til you see the old boy dance.
He can really shake, rattle, roll and prance.

And that, Mr. Spoon, he oozes with charm.
He makes all the ladies scream in alarm.
When they gaze at him, they practically swoon.
He sure knows how to send ‘em over the moon.

At February 28, 2007 9:54 PM, Blogger Matt D said...

This poem was written by myself, Aaron Bove, and John Sullivan

As I get up for school,
I feel like such a fool.
But there is no time to worry,
I’ve got 10 minutes; I need to hurry.

I walk into class 5 minutes late,
It’s a bad day, it must be fate.
As I open my backpack to look for my paper,
There’s a void in there as big as a gaper.

But that’s okay, there are two classes remaining,
To rewrite that paper; my head is straining.
So I start from the beginning; it’s a great place to start,
The first two paragraphs done! I’m a scholar at heart.

It’s a bare minimum, an F at best,
But it’s better than a zero, or so I guessed.
So I turned in all that I had,
And I just hoped it wasn’t all too bad.

But as it turned out, I had only just dreamed,
It was 6 o’clock, but how early it seemed.
While on the bus, checking my backpack I began to feel,
That the paper’s not in there, that dream was real!

At March 01, 2007 9:36 AM, Blogger coleh said...

School Ballad

For school we were forced to write a ballad
So we prepared a delicious salad.
The salad didn’t really help us think
So we think this ballad might stink.

We needed some advice
So we tapped our heads twice
As we sat in my room
There was a big boom

An idea came to us
We were going to write about a bus
But we couldn’t get it to rhyme
And plus we didn’t have enough time.

We had no clue what to do
So we decided to go see a guru
He told us our future
He told us we were both moochers

So we slapped him in the face
And we stole his case
He started to cry
We told him good bye

We spent the whole day
Trying to get our way
We made another salad
And then we realized we still needed to write our ballad.


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