T'was the Night Before School Starts

T’was the night before school starts, when all through the dorm,

Not a student was stirring, which isn’t the norm.

The notebooks were piled, in the book bags with care

In hopes that some knowledge, soon would be there.

 

The coed was nestled, all snug in her bed

While visions of eReserves danced in her head.

She wore not a kerchief, nor a bed cap

She just settled down for a long winter’s nap.

 

When out on K lot, there arose such a clatter

She sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window she flew like a flash

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

 

The rain on the breast of the concrete below

Gave a luster of rainbows in the car oil’s glow.

When what to her wondering eyes should appear

But her new teacher Doire, but why was she here?

 

With her Bob Dylan jacket and a dress to the floor

She knew in a moment, the crazy professor.

More rapid than eagles her courses they came

And she whistled and shouted and called them by name.

 

“Now Ethics! Now Theodicy! Now Islam and Buddhism!

On Genesis! On Theology! On Job and on Feminism!

To the front of the class! To the lectern she strode!

Now dash away! Dash away! Her words they explode!

 

As sharp pencils before the wild GRE fly,

When they meet with an obstacle have to ask, “why?”

So up to the Cistern profs’ caps and gowns flew,

Girls’ stupid white dresses and red roses too.

 

And then in a twinkling the girl heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little proof.

As she drew in her head and was turning around

Into the classroom Doire came with a bound.

 

She was dressed all in black from her head to her foot

And her clothes they were vintage, a very strange look.

A bundle of books she had flung on her back

And she looked like a peddler just opening her pack

 

Her words how they twinkled! Her theses, so many!

Her stupid jokes failed, her tangents so plenty!

Her stern little mouth was drawn up like a bow

The chalk on the board was as white as the snow.

 

The stump of a Camel she held tight in her teeth

And the smoke it encircled her head like a wreath

She had a kind face and a laugh that was quick

Her cowboy boots clapped on the cobblestoned brick.

 

She spoke what she thought, her words often dared

And sometimes her students thought she was weird.

A wink of her eye and a twist of her head

Soon gave them to know they had nothing to dread.

 

She spoke many words and went straight to her work

And she filled all their notebooks then turned with a jerk,

And laying her glasses a top of her nose

And giving a nod out the classroom she strode.

 

She sprang to her Volkswagen,and blew the Kazoo

And away she then drove to Fairmont Avenue.

The girl heard her exclaim ‘ere she drove out of town

“Truth is constructed! Turtles all the way down!”