“Il guaio è che …abbiamo ottenuto il vostro lavoro e non stiamo per morire!”
North Hall Story
words by Robin Pemantle
sung to the tune of "Officer Krupke" by L. Bernstein
Prelude: Some faculty no-goodnicks are loitering, talking about how they're going to fail all their students, take a long paid vacation, bamboozle the NSF, et cetera. A T.A.A. officer (name?) approaches and starts badgering them to get back to work, stop harrassing students, and so on, trading them insult for insult.
* * *
Dear kindly graduate students, you gotta trust us please:
it's not our inner nature that makes us SOB's.
Our jobs are full of pressure, our lives are full of stress.
Goodness, gracious, that's why we're a mess.
Dear graduate students, as you take your lumps,
don't let us hear you caviling, 'cause we hold the trumps!
It's absolute power that makes us corrupt.
By social theory we are stuck -- what bad luck!
What bad luck, boo-hoo,
we are victims too,
we are victims just as much as you.
We have an obligation we would not want to breach
To quality education -- that's why first-years don't teach.
You must learn to be patient; you must be more mature.
One year's starvation will make you that for sure!
Dear graduate students, you haven't a clue
How much we regret the things that we have to do.
Our administration has sent down decrees.
We are just following orders please. Orders please!
Give us orders please,
give us orders please,
taking orders makes our lives a breeze.
Dear students my agenda is full again today,
I've other things to tend to, so kindly go away!
My daughter flunked her prelims, my son is ABD.
Who told them to try to be like me?
Dear graduate students, you'll probably hear
that who you pick for an advisor shapes your career.
As you look around you, remember this truth:
deep down inside us there is youth, there is youth.
There is youth, there is youth,
there is unseen youth,
there is stilted, fossili-zed youth.
The trouble is we're crabby, the trouble is we lie,
the trouble is we're flabby, the trouble's we don't try,
the trouble is we're tenured, the system's gone awry.
We've got your jobs and we're not gonna die!
tempo change: half-time
Dear graduate students, come one and come all,
begin pursuing your advanced degrees here this fall.
To those who survive till the ultimate hour:
welcome to the i-vo- ... -ree tow'r!