‘Twas the night before Christmas, and classes were done
The students were gone, back home having fun.
Final exams had been written, goodbyes had been shared,
And visions of “A” grades danced through the air.
But I, in my office, sat slumped at my desk,
‘Neath a stack full of lab reports, essays, and tests.
Completing my grades, in a terrible brood,
For the edict from Boynton had sullied my mood.
She had learned that the grades must be turned in today.
With eight blocks to her load, she was bowed with dismay.
Her spirits as black as the ink from a squid.
Even Gompei the Goat was back home with his kids.
When what to mine exhausted eyes did appear,
But Boynton and Washburn, shadows in the air!
Said Boynton, “In theory, you shouldn’t be grading
While Christmas is nigh, and the evening is fading.”
Then Washburn spoke up, “I don’t think it’s daft
To remember you’ve chosen a virtuous path.
Think of the teachers who have been there for you
To help all those times when you hadn’t a clue.
Who stayed after class, and were only too willing
To buy you a lunch when you hadn’t a shilling?
As I looked through the past, I saw it was true,
So I turned to my work with a vigor renewed.
“They shall have all their grades by three, I declared.
And they won’t have to wonder unsure and a feared.
And the two ghostly sages, they smiled to themselves
And they faded away, the two mystical elves.
But I heard them exclaim, in a voice hale and hearty,
“So sorry to leave, but we’re late for a party!”
Poem adaptation provided by Gordy Boudreau