If you can please your head when all about you
Are losing files and blaming it on you;
If you can dust your shelves while others shout,
But make allowance for their shouting too;
If you can backdate the paperwork thats waiting,
And lie when asked if you should improvise,
And dont be late, cause theyll be waiting,
To make you look no good and less than wise.
If you can scream but make it sound like laughter;
If you can drink yet clarify your aims;
If you can give them all the bumph theyre after,
Whilst still you treat each one with just disdain;
If you can bear to see the crap youve mumbled
Twisted by fools to make a trap for you,
Or watch the posters that adorn your classroom crumpled,
And stoop and patch them up with worn out glue.
If you can make one heap of all your records,
And risk that they will only scan the top,
And fail, because they take one from the middle,
Then gather them and burn the bloody lot;
If you can find your schemes of work, your planning file and your assessments,
And put them on display until theyve gone,
And hope that they wont spot theres nothing in them,
Except some made-up notes set out all wrong.
If you can talk to kids as though they like you,
And let their parents think you have the magic touch;
If neither forms nor teacher grades can hurt you;
If all the staff believe you've done too much.
If you can fill the uninspected minute,
With Sixty seconds worth of secret fun
Yours is the report and everything thats in it.
And for twelve more months you can relax my son.