theodore geisel roles over in his grave...

My AP class is year long, so rather than deal w/ a mid-year test w/ AP prep at the forefront, the assignment, write something about 'US GOVERNMENT' in the style of Dr. Seuss... Mine is not really about Govt, and I sort of pumped it out this AM in about 20 minutes... but it's a fairly descriptive tale of why i started teaching, and what it's like... sorry about editing.. i'll brush it up later...

IN the rainy far off land of freemont, washington there lived the blond fuzzy skier named tonk blartron

And he labored and toiled as he built pluperhouses, and the checks were all right but the plupers were louses

So he slowly went nuts designing riding vacuumns, and ridiculous pools that were supported by balloons,

Til he’d finally had enough of super pluper demands, so he jumped up and left to sasquatchy oregony lands…

Now he gets up in the morning, in the deep dark night, laughs at the droopery rain and jumps on his trumpalo bike…

And its 40 and raining but boy is he glad, he doesn’t even complain when he gets splashed by gage and his dad…

No the oregony kids, he really likes them the best, that’s why he works and he toils, and he tries to make jests

He reads lots of books, he stays up too late, he works 60 hours Boy is this great,

For their future is bright, and he likes them a lot, he knows that he can make a difference, so that their brains don’t rot…

And they come in to his flouresceny office, with looks of deep misery. Oh boy he thinks! They need help with us history!

But no, no, they say, in their oregony way, I don’t want to work. I just want an A

I am very bright, very smart, this I know. I deserve a good grade. My dad tells me so.

But, but, what, what, he says, all a huff and a puff, I’ don’t understand, don’t you hear, this history’s great stuff…

No, says the tot, readings a bore, and class is kind of lame, I’ll just take the ‘A’, if it’s all just the same…

At last lunch comes, and he can have some rest, get some grading done, maybe drum up a test!

But the fresh freshy froshies descend like a trumapling herd, they make a huge mess, and the noise, oh my word…

Then come the seniors, oh they’ll be a joy, they’ll read and they’ll work and the conversations, oh boy…

but no they all say, we don’t want to read, and we don’t want to chore, we’ll just show up late, give you grief, call you a bore…

We don’t care if you do the reading, we just rather not, we mainly want to complain, work… a bunch of rot…

And the end of the quarter comes, and it’s all just the same, thanks for nothing, you teachers are lame…

And they stand over head, badger, bother, pester him for days, if I turn in this paper, that test, that quiz, what will THAT do to my grade?

He says, do the reading, come to class, you’ll get into school! No they all say, extra credit’s the way, work is for fools…

But as he bangs his head, as the last kid has gone, he realizes w/ a sigh that here he belongs…

He didn’t get into it for the thanks or the courtesy or the praises, he got into it for 10 eighty an hour, but with annual raises…