Spring is here and with it, stress.
You've got more work, I have less,
Leaving me with ample time
To soliloquize in rhyme.
I'm a senior, good as done;
Had my sorrows, had my fun;
Here's a chance to reminisce,
Brooding on the things I'll miss.
But to do so would be trite,
So indulge me as I write
Rather than my frosh excitements,
One last series of indictments.
***
To begin with, we are lazy.
(Here you think, "This woman's crazy!
This is the mid-April crush
Which is busier than Rush?")
But every paper that we write,
Though it may keep us up all night,
Is grounded in a single view.
***
It's true, which one is up to you,
But sadly, it can't be denied
That many of us pick one side
(Foucault or Chomsky, Freud or Marx)
From which alone to strike our sparks.
That is the duty that we shirk,
For thinking freely makes hard work.
A single source means single thought,
And single Cliffs Notes to be bought!
So say you're staunchly communist-
But be aware what words you twist;
Say you're a firm Republican-
But question platforms when you can.
We have but chosen to be blind.
When have you ever changed your mind?
***
Still worse, we're very insular.
Our single outlook on class war
Is Local Unions Versus Yale.
But their complaints do tend to pale
Beside coal mines' black lung disease;
Such serious atrocities
Call for job actions less polite
Than our more civil union fight.
There are some jobs more hazardous
Than waiting on obnoxious us.
***
Campus facilities are apt,
Because they make us feel quite trapped.
The peeling paint and banging doors,
Thin, leaking roofs and sagging floors,
Should all conspire to indicate
Our well-deserved eventual fate.
***
We Yalies think we're hot as hell.
But-and this breaks my heart to tell-
We're not. We're only kids. Despite
Our college years, however bright,
We still are inexperienced.
Yes, training's great. I'm quite convinced
That two-week spring-break externship
Was more than just a pleasant trip
To NYC. OK, you learned
To use a fax-but I'm concerned;
You still don't know the smallest thing
About (say) kids'-book publishing.
Employers know to make the call:
We're smart, but still unpractical.
***
With graduation comes a blow:
Just where on earth are we to go?
We must-oh horrors-help ourselves;
Find work and well-stocked kitchen shelves,
New friends, old conflicts, and proceed
To find ourselves good mates and breed.
That's not quite what we're trained to do
By profs here at the Good Old Blue.
***
If my unsentimental song
Has bored you, why'd you read so long?
And if it has offended, think
Before you reach for angry ink;
If I had no affection for
This place, I'd not take on the chore
Of criticizing it; besides,
You know just where my love resides:
For though I'll graduate in May
I'm coming back as a TA.
Rachel Trousdale, TC '96, really is going to grad school here. God help her.
Copyright 1996, The Yale Herald, Inc. All rights reserved.
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