Alleges My Teacher

Son:
Alleges my teacher:
I’m weak in the head
And calls me a dunce;
Of her I’m in dread.
A dead loss, a dud,
I’m going to rot.
What should I do now?
She hates me a lot!
I’m fated to fail
As destined a fool.
Why waste your money?
I want to leave school.

Father:
Okay my son, if that is so, you can
Leave school, but then you speak sense like a man.
You are not fool and note no man is fool,
And progress means to solve all ills; be cool.
Like knives unused our heads sometimes go blunt,
So use your head and pass your tests; don’t grunt.
I know you work hard but the teacher rates
Your work to be less than that of your mates.
Give her a challenge; spend more time with books;
Your worth soon prove and be in her good books.