We had respect for teachers then,
For lessons, rules, and guiding hands;
We knew that choices carried weight,
Like footprints pressed in classroom sands.
A careless word, a cheeky grin,
Would meet a consequence in time;
Not out of cruelty, not from spite,
But to teach the shape of wrong and right.
And none of us grew broken from
The boundaries we came to know;
They helped us stand, they helped us see
How decency and manners grow.
We learnt “please” and “thank you” too,
To listen when another spoke;
To show our elders simple grace,
Not treat respect as just a joke.
Now politeness feels a rarer thing,
A fading word, a quieter art;
But every kind and courteous soul
Still proves respect begins at heart.