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IDEAL SCHOOL


Fourteen years is a long journey, 
which starts with a weep, 
and ends in a confident future grinning. 
After the fingers of my mother's hand, 
to a teacher's chalk in her hand, 
She taught me ABCD and some formula from which I ran, 
All in my ideal school with a pen in my hand. 
In whichever field I shall go, 
I'll carry the morals of my school, 
And teachers' guides right inside my soul. 

Like an extra backbone behind me, 
My school has filled the confidence and power to fight, 
this huge world without any battle indulging me. 
A student wished for a different language other than English and Hindi, 
So their the school provided students with foreign languages, 
And made no field left untouched in this ideal school of mine. 

In no aspect of life, it has made me lack, 
whether it be science sports or the computer tricks I cracked. 
The academics were not the only an aim for them, 
To improve a student's behaviour was their first and the only responsibility they had . 
An artist had been appreciated, 
A musician had been guided , 
A dancer corrected and a scholar had been tested, 
All is being done in this small world of mine. 

A feeling of brotherhood was developed followed by integrity and love, 
All of us are groomed and maintained, 
with a trusted hand always with our aim. 
I developed here with care and love from my teacher's side, 
And from my dear principal who always showed a light, 
on the right ways we lost behind. 

An ideal school defines not only a building with height, 
But a place of knowledge and discipline from my eyes.


By Nistha Goel

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