Now the Star-rated teachers had contracts with stars.
The Plain-rated teachers had none upon thars.
The stars weren’t so big; they were really quite small.
You would think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.
But because they had stars, all the Star-rated teachers
would brag, “We’re the best kind of teach who can teaches.”
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort,
“We’ll have nothing to do with the plain-rated sort.”
And whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
they’d saunter right past them without even talking.
When the Star-rated teachers went along to PD,
could the Plain-rated get in the game? Oh not thee!
You could only attend if your contract had stars,
and the Plain-rated teachers had none upon thars.
When the Star-rated teachers had after-work drinks,
or meetings or cuppas or pedogogical thinks,
they never invited the Plain-rated teachers.
Left them out cold in the dark near the bleachers.
Kept them away; never let them come near,
and that’s how they treated them year after year.
Then one day, it seems, while the Plain-rated teachers
were moping and doping alone on the bleachers,
sitting there, wishing their contracts had stars,
a stranger zipped up in the strangest of cars.
“My friends, ” she announced in a voice clear and free,
“My name is Bill Gates Murdoch Koch Michelle Rhee.
I’ve heard of your troubles; I’ve heard you’re unhappy.
But I can fix that; I’m the fix-it-up chappie.
I’ve come here to help you; I have what you need.
My prices are low, and I work with great speed,
and my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed.”
Then quickly, Bill Gates Murdoch Koch Michelle Rhee
put together a very peculiar machine.
Then she said, “You want stars like a Star-rated teach?
My friends, you can have them… for three dollars each!
Just hand me your money and hop right aboard.”
They clambered inside and the big machine roared.
It bonked. It clonked. It jerked. It berked.
It bopped them around, but the thing really worked.
When the Plain-rated teachers popped out, they had stars!
They actually did, they had stars upon thars!
Then they yelled at the ones who had stars from the start,
“We’re exactly like you; you can’t tell us apart.
We’re all just the same now, you over-the-top finks.
Now we can come to your after-work drinks!”
“Good grief!” groaned the one who had stars from the first.
“We’re still the best teachers, and they are the worst.
But how in the world will we know,” they all frowned,
“if which kind is what or the other way ’round?”
Then up stepped wee Rhee with a very sly wink, and she said,
“Things are not quite as bad as you think.
You don’t know who’s who, that is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends, do you know what I’ll do?
I’ll make you again the best teachers of creatures,
and all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.
Rating stars are no longer in style,” said wee Rhee.
“What you need is a trip through my star-off machine.
This wondrous contraption will take off your stars,
so you won’t work like teachers who have them on thars.”
That handy machine, working very precisely,
removed all the stars from their contracts quite nicely.
Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about.
They opened their beaks and proceeded to shout,
“We now know who’s who, and there isn’t a doubt,
the best kind of teachers are teachers without.”
Then, of course those with stars all got frightfully mad.
To be wearing a star now was frightfully bad.
Then, of course old Bill Gates Murdoch Koch Michelle Rhee
invited them into her star-off machine.
Then, of course from then on, you can probably guess,
things became a value-added mess.
All the rest of the day near the old school-yard bleachers,
the Fix-it-up-Chappie kept fixing up teachers.
Off again, on again, in again, out again,
through the machines they raced round and about again,
they kept paying money, they kept going through,
changing their stars every minute or two,
until neither the Plain- nor the Star-rated knew
whether this one was that one or that one was this one
or which one was what one or what one was who!
Then, when every last cent of their money was spent,
the Fix-It-Up-Chappie packed up and he went.
And he laughed as he drove in his car like a leech,
“They never will learn; no, you can’t teach a teach!”
But wee Rhee was quite wrong, I’m quite happy to say,
the teachers got really quite smart on that day.
That day, they decided that teachers are teachers,
and no kind of teach is the best of the teachers.
That day, all the teachers forgot about stars,
and whether or not they had one on thars.