By Luke Glaser

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‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, and all through UK,

Each student was prepping for that happy day;

Decorations galore, from Blanding to Jewell

In hopes that they soon would be far from this school;

And they listened to carols, as snow fell above

Prepared to see family, and all those they love.

But, meanwhile, on campus there existed a clan

That hated the  season, each woman and man;

Inspired were they by misery and pressure,

And feared by each student, who called each “professor.”

They cackled with glee as they plotted their schemes,

To trap all the students with Christmasy dreams;

With a laugh, just to hear it, would make you quite blue,

And you knew in a moment what they would soon do.

In a week that was known as supposed to be “dead”

They said this to students, and filled them with dread;

“Now quizzes! Now labs! Now essays and test!

Now projects! Now finals, and all of the rest!

We’ll give you all work ‘til you’re up to your sleeve,

And we’ll stamp out your spirit, and you’ll never leave!”

And each student was forced to stay in and cram,

Presents and cookies don’t pass an exam.

Instead they studied, and did not have a say,

For as cool as he is, Santa can’t bring an “A;”

A huge stack of tests each prof had on their back,

And they looked like a peddler, just opening his pack

Their souls—oh! How empty,

Their eyes— oh! How dead,

Anticipating scantrons,

With nothing but red.

Such work would depress,

A right, jolly old elf,

And I cried when I saw it,

In spite of myself.

When suddenly, one night, in a gaunt Willy T

The silence was broken, by a rapture of glee.

For Santa had come, to dismantle the fear

And fill all the students with Christamsy Cheer.

“No need to work, for you’ll each get an A!

Don’t let the man beat you, for this is my day!

Go ahead! Get on Facebook! There’s no need to frown,

Go home and be merry! For I’ve come to town!”

So each student said, “Screw it!”

Left their books and just bailed,

Had the time of their lives,

Though, of course, they all failed.

For it doesn’t matter,

How far that you fall,

You pass or you fail,

Christmas comes to us all.

Then we heard him exclaim, as he rode out of sight,

“The job market sucks anyway! And to all a good night!”

And that, dear readers, is the Lukewarm Truth. Not quite hot, but definitely not cold.