The Headmaster - Rishona Chopra

 

The headmaster or the headmistress leads the school. Teachers sometimes use them as a weapon to scare them; when someone does something wrong, the teacher says that she'll send that child to the Headmistress's office. They aren't that scary. They are not frightening at all. They can be as sweet as plum and a strict at a stick.

In this book, Totto-chan meets the headmaster to see if she gets approved. Surprisingly, the headmaster told her to speak whatever she wanted. The headmaster listened to her for hours without a yawn!

This chapter is a must read for everyone as it changes the point of view about teachers.

Rishona Chopra
Grade VI
Gyanshree School

Poem for my mother - Arav Agarwal

This poem is dedicated to my Mother on Mother's day. Our Mothers are like role models in daily life. They nurture us, support us in everything we do and selflessly work to see us happy. 

Happy Mother's Day to all the Mothers.

 

Thank you, mom, for doing so much for me;
You always make sure that I have a feeling of glee! 

I love spending time with you;
You always taught me the value of being true! 

Thank you so much again for supporting me in the journey of sports and studies till now;
For me, you are the leading example to whom I can bow!

Name: Arav Agarwal
Grade: 6A
Billabong High International School, Thane

Hope - Aishwarya Kalia Ahuja

 

Ms Aishwarya Kalia Ahuja

TGT English

Ahlcon Public School

I am an experienced English teacher. Alongside teaching, I enjoy writing. I've also authored research papers and published poems. I've a keen interest in research which is always leveraged in analyzing learners' language needs.

An Illusionary Friend 

(Poem Based on the value of the month of May - Hope)

An ingenuine crowd always around,

But I talked to an illusion and the voice reverted sound:

"Everything'll  be fine one day",

"You'll also see a sunshine ray"

 

Illusion was optimistic, if it sustained,

And this was how my hope maintained

Echoes were growing familiar

And set off a voice which I always wanted to hear.

Was this smart cookie an acointier?

It (so -well- knew-me) triggered in a brief encounter.

Why did it only linger in the twilight?

Was it an elf who sank into the obscure eyesight?

And it was growing so intimate,

When I closed my eyes, it dwelled and dominate.

Finally, I transcended my contemplation

A soul's voice misapprehended for illusion!