Written by: Abdullah Ali Al-Asooli
The teachers in this country, who spent the years of their pink and youthful lives teaching children, came to school at the first moment while they were crying, and their tears were falling like raindrops. May teachers receive them with motherhood, tenderness and love
They open their arms to embrace a child who left his mother a while ago, and she gives him love from the heart of a teacher full of tenderness.
Oh dear teachers...
You have squandered ignorance in the past years, and given you knowledge, a cord, and education in the formation of the vocabulary of the language.
You taught our children to multiply numbers, not to multiply faces. And dividing numbers, not dividing goals. Collecting results, not collecting errors, and subtracting numbers, not subtracting wishes.
Minds remained calm with your kindness and openness of your chests, and you wiped away the tears of the meek flowers of life, and replaced a tear of a child’s sadness with an innocent laugh coming out of his slender lips.
O teachers who raised a telegram to the homeland, in which you said
- O dear homeland, we have enriched you with the arteries of life that circulate in the veins of your mother-in-law, with whom glory blossomed, so we seeded the hearts of the alphabet students, so the homeland blossomed with renaissance, progress, and urbanization with their unrelenting arms.
Yes, the forearms are their forearms, and the best homeland is their habitat.
O planters in the heart of the homeland spring
Here the days go by and the young years of life pass with them. The person longs for the past when you left the house, the husband and the child - to carry out the message of education, which only you accepted its bearer, so you taught the students some of your inexhaustible giving, with which the flags were raised and you gave birth from under the chalk boards and the noise of the class students And its cool breezes are the men of Jordan who made glory and history. Pupils gathered by the school and their teams are this country that made its glory and glory
Dear graduate from the arms of the school
You have left your teacher in the form drawn in your mind, in which she is the age of youth, vitality, and activity. Today, your teacher honors her with her back bent, her hair young, her eyesight weak, and she entrusted you with splendor and aggression. She returned home tired and does not regret a life wasted in teaching you the horizons of life and its affairs.
And she does not regret staying up late and tired, nor the chalk dust that filled her nose - as she smelled scents of perfume from the results of her planting on the foreheads of her students. It increased her honor and pride for what she presented in the past days. You are the factory of the originality of righteous men.
And now that you have retired and returned home to your children, you have graced the whole world with being the center of provision for men
Accordingly, I come forward with all the students of the country of all ages from this great mother, the virtuous educator, and I bow down to kiss the hand that tired us and tired of age, to kiss it, kiss it, kiss it, and put it on my head as a crown and a beacon.
Words of praise, thanks and appreciation refuse to be formed due to their weakness in front of this great man
I wish, however, and for the teachers of my compatriots, all prosperity and contentment, and that God bless you in your life and your livelihood, and may God protect you and direct your steps on the path of goodness