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Do not steal content from this page. Plagiarism detected by Copyscape.

"By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; and by knowledge
the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches." ~Proverbs 24:3-4


Have you written a poem about homeschooling that you would like to share? Send me your submission! E-mail . Both adults and children are welcome to submit poems for this page. Be sure to include your name so that I can give you credit, and the poet's age if it's a child. (When I receive enough submissions, I will publish them in a book and send you a free copy if you supply your e-mail and/or mailing address to keep on file.)

In our school there will be
no boring lectures,
no politically-correct textbooks,
no required courses,
no graffiti-covered walls,
no overcrowded classrooms,
no high-stakes testing,
no strict schedules, and
no dress codesÖ
But the whole world will be
an open book as we run free
to windsung poems,
and we will rejoice
as we explore the wonders
of God's creation.

Copyright 2000 by Teri Ann Berg Olsen

*Please click here for reprint permission*

Ode to a Homeschool Mom
A poem by Teri Ann Berg Olsen

* * *

Ode to a Homeschool Dad
A poem by Teri Ann Berg Olsen

                                                         A Teacher's Heart


                                                         By Teri Ann Berg Olsen

*Please click here for reprint permission*

Whatever you write on the heart of a child,
no water can wash it away.
The marks in the sands are erased by the tide;
inscriptions will crumble with clay.
The words in a book will decay with the years
and even engraving in stone disappears.
But Godís Word inscribed on a little childís heart
for time and eternity shall not depart.

(Author Unknown)

A Chemistry Poem
This one was written by an Apologia science student.

* * *

We Are the Homeschool Kids Who Can't Do Anything
By Zak Gahagan - sing this one to the tune of the Veggie Tales "Pirates" song!

Our House

By Edgar Guest

We play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
Aní thereís always a game when supper is done;
Aní at our house thereís marks on the walls aní the stairs,
Aní some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
Aní ma says that our house is surely a fright,
But pa and I say that our house is all right.

At our house we laugh aní we sing aní we shout,
Aní whirl all the chairs and the tables about,
Aní I rassle my pa aní I get him down too,
Aní heís all out of breath when the fightiní is through;
Amí ma says our house is surely a sight,
But pa aní I say that our house is all right.

Iíve been to houses with pa where I had
To sit in a chair like a good little lad,
Aní there wasnít a mark on the walls aní the chairs,
Aní the stuff that we have couldnít come up to theirs;
Aní pa said to ma that for all of their joy
He wouldnít change places and give up his boy.

They never have races nor rassles nor fights.
Coz they have no children to play with at nights;
Aní their walls are all clean and their curtains hang straight,
Aní everthingís shiny aní right up to date;
But pa says with all of its racket aní fuss,
Heíd rather by far live at our house with us.

The following poem relates the true story of a homeschool family that moved to a small town in the Midwest and enrolled their teenage son in a local public school. They thought the small-school atmosphere would be good for him. However, the school labeled the boy as learning disabled. He was teased constantly and the heretofore happy-go-lucky teenage son attempted suicide. So the mother began home schooling her son again. She spent most of that year focusing on his spiritual and emotional development with little emphasis on academics. After six and half months of homeschooling, she had her son take the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. He tested 17 months above his grade level - after being labeled learning disabled just nine months before! At the end of the school year, the mother sat down and wrote a poem that summarizes her experience.

You loser! You queer! You're no good!
Words sometimes said, always understood.
Cries of anger and fits of rage;
Runaway threats and even the grave.

Grips of despair, hurt and torment,
Turned into scars and walls never meant.
Fight against fights, to later give up.
Ruins of "life," a poisonous cup!

"Socialization," it is a must!
"Squeeze them and mold them!" back to the dust.
Myth upon myth, that line is told;
A pack of goods have really been sold.

Line upon line will now reveal,
His precept on precept is what is real.
God's risen Son will be your friend,
In ways others could only pretend.

Dearest child, your life was torn apart.
But God can give you a brand new start.
Our home now will be your safe school,
Where God's love in your life may again rule.

This isn't technically a homeschool poem BUT it does give some good reasons TO homeschool!

The Prayer of a Public Schooler

Written By A 15 yr. Old School Kid In Arizona

Now I sit me down in school
Where praying is against the rule
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.

If Scripture now the class recites,
It violates the Bill of Rights.
And anytime my head I bow
Becomes a Federal matter now.

Our hair can be purple, orange or green,
That's no offense; it's a freedom scene.
The law is specific, the law is precise.
Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.

For praying in a public hall
Might offend someone with no faith at all.
In silence alone we must meditate,
God's name is prohibited by the state.

We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,
And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks..
They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.
To quote the Good Book makes me liable.

We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,
And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King.
It's 'inappropriate' to teach right from wrong,
We're taught that such 'judgments' do not belong.

We can get our condoms and birth controls,
Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.
But the Ten Commandments are not allowed,
No word of God must reach this crowd.

It's scary here I must confess,
When chaos reigns the school's a mess.
So, Lord, this silent plea I make:
Should I be shot; My soul please take!


These pages are a continuous work in progress.
Copyright © 2000- by Teri Ann Berg Olsen
All rights reserved.

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