July 31, 2006

Grading doggerel

profgrrl inspired me, even though I'm not teaching this summer:

In grading some are at their best
but others can get quite depressed
when marking "wrong" and sometimes "right"
and eat and grade all through the night.

(Halvah's great, but M&Ms
feed the brain cells and the stem.
What helps read mensch or plain mean jerks?
For me, just theobromine works.)

For those who come from overseas,
culture gap's far from a breeze,
they must think U.S. students nuts,
all pupils who think with their... lower spines.

(I exaggerate, of course.
Who work as hard as a horse
will earn high grades and my respect,
becoming close to the Elect.)

The homesick blues I've seen in peers?
The folks who all dissolve in tears?
The stuff most prone to gradingology?
Yep, it's paleontology.

Six TAs in a lecture hall
thought it all was just a ball
until they had to grade the final.
Then they learned the screaming primal.

Six TAs from overseas
who though that grad school was a breeze,
who hadn't met their match, quite yet,
But horrors waited, you can bet.

They fought through hundreds of exams.
They read Sue's, Al's, and even Sam's.
They marked some unreadable text
and purple pictures of T. Rex.

They X'd some here , and cross-hatched there,
and slowly they pulled out their hair.
Green pen for wrong and blue for right.
And red their eyes half through the night.

When all was graded, all was done.
They squinted at the rising sun.
Four were left as psych-job wrecks,
the other two were just blue Czechs.*

Please treat your TAs kindly, peers,
and don't ignore the flowing tears.
Their organizing's not a sin,
so show the grad school union in.

*—profgrrl's poem refers to "blue checks."

(And now I'll flee with rapid run
for writing such an awful pun.)

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Posted in Teaching on July 31, 2006 6:35 PM |