WHEN THE SPIDERS NEED TO LEAVE

The room once slayed in webs and dreams,

Now wakes beneath the broom’s bold beams.

[Written in June 2025, this poem came to life during Brigada Eskwela. As I cleaned the classroom, I was reminded that every helping hand, no matter how small, leaves a lasting mark on the spaces where learning begins.]

The room once slayed in webs and dreams,

Now wakes beneath the broom’s bold beams.

The spiders know it’s time to weave

New tales elsewhere, they’ve got to leave.

The ants will march a different route,

No crumbs for them to rave about.

The cockroach stroll is shut down tight,

And mosquitoes? Smoked out of sight.

The mouse who ruled the quiet stage

Has been evicted, no more page.

The mop will guide the dust to the door

And the panes will be clear once more.

Ooops, a slithery friend (or a hopping, croaking one) might lurk in the corner,

So clean with care—be a tidy-floor explorer.

Lift every box and sweep with flair,

You never know what’s hiding there!

Oh, scavenge smart, don’t judge too fast,

That pile of junk might just outlast.

Old charts, odd props, forgotten fluff

Could be your perfect demo stuff.

Cleaned paper backs, dusty files or cans

Might save your whole performance plan.

So check each shelf and random stack

You’ll thank yourself when pressure’s back!

And that peaceful hush? It won’t last long

Soon mouths will chatter loud and strong,

Hands will scribble, feet will race,

And chaos claims the cleaned-up space.

So grab that broom, then take a breath

The school year starts, embrace the mess!

Make the room a spotless hub

For the cram-happy kids —-

… we’ll learn to love.

And as the spiders pack and weave,

We nod—it’s time for them to leave.

But before you, too, begin to scoot,

Ask, ‘What hero’s gift can I contribute?’

Even ants bring crumbs with pride

A tiny load, but side by side.

So sweep, fix, paint, or simply cheer,

A heart that helps is welcome here.