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Saturday, October 02, 2004
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TO: Alliance for A’s Members
FROM: Janice [for background, see several previous posts, starting with 11/30/03] SUBJECT: AUTUMNAL The deflationary news out of Princeton is beyond shocking. At this wistfully transitional time of year, this October season of summer’s death, I can only offer you Keats’s immortal ode, and ask that you simply hold on and hope for better days. I’ll be in touch again as this story develops. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With A’s the graded sheets that round the campus run; To seed with summas Ivy-cultivars, And fill all laps with grade-fruit ripened to the core; To swell the grade, and plump the average With a sweet inflation; to set budding more, And still more, the transcripts for professional schools, Until they think all A’s will never cease, For brilliance has o'erbrimmed the nation. Yet where are they now, the Four Point O’s of Spring? A’s, where are they? Think not of them; B’s have their music too, - While barred grades dim the soft-dying GPA And touch the transcript with darker hue; Then in a wailful choir the students mourn Among the river sallows, Sinking as the grade point average dies. And full professors bleat from hilly bourn; Counselors lament, and now with treble soft The pre-meds sweat in a garden-croft; And gathering vultures circle in the skies. |