The poem in passive form

In the morning, it is said,

That every day I'm dragged from bed

By forces which are aimed to get me

So I'm pushed to school by 8:15.

From my bed I am plucked.

Various clothes are hung upon me.

To myself is served my breakfast,

Which is eaten with much speed;

Indicating my stomach is emptied in the night

By the digestive processes

About which I am taught in class one,

Where I am required to stay awake

Although 8:30 in the morning is clocked

And sleep is needed for my mind.

A yawn is stifled when it is found

That to my pleasure, class is finished.

My way is stumbled towards English,

Which is started with a "Hello, Rhetts!"

The correct response is known to be,

Quite obviously,

"Hello, Wheels!"

It is discovered to class's disappointment,

That the eaten midterm was not destined

To be that which was to be taken by us.

Français is listed as the next,

Where the latest puns are revealed

By the well known expert, LaRivière.

French is learned to some extent

And lunch is welcomed finally

By those of us by whom some luck is had,

And not by others by whom it is not had.

Food is consumed through my mouth,

And the events of the day are spoken through it,

Until the time is reached at last,

When Analysis is to be enjoyed.

It is taught that 2 is made from 1 and 1,

And I am pleased that this is true.

At last the spot is found by the second hand

Where class is ended by a bing.

My way is made to the band room,

Where every day new pieces are played,

After which History is started,

A jovial ending to the day,

And the teacher is shocked by our ability,

When grades are known and it is revealed

That ours are best and we were thoughttobethedumbones.

Then school is halted and the rest of the day

All takes place in the active voice.