Sara from Saskatoon Seuss-ifies the Academic Haiku. It'll Never Be the Same.

I do not like them, Sam I am.
I do not like my 8 a.m.
I want to hit them with a bar
I’d like to throw them ‘neath a car.
I’d like to feed them to a goat
I’d like to throw them in a moat
I do not like them, Sam I am.
I do not like my 8 a.m.

I’m sick of stony silent faces
While I put them through their paces
They do not read; they do not care
It’s like talking to the air.
They turn in papers in pink ink
And their spelling mostly stinks.
There’s a computer at every seat—
They could turn in papers nice and neat
They could even print them in the room
And save themselves from grading doom.
But do they do this, Sam I am?
No, not them, my 8 a.m.

I do not like them, Sam I am.
I do not like my 8 a.m.
Their homework, they never do
I swear, they haven’t got a clue.
Yes, Sam, reminded them I have
More than once, might I add.
Major assignments, what are those?
They just sit there and pick their nose.
They’ll have to take the class again—
The only thing that keeps me sane
Is next semester I will be
Here at home with my baby.
The stupid sniveling dumbass brats
Will be in someone else’s class.
I do not like them, Sam I am.
I do not like my 8 a.m.

I do not think that they believe
In the big fat F’s that they’ll receive.
After all, they show up each day
And books and tuition they did pay.
I wonder if they’ll gasp in shock
When the axe hits the chopping block
And their failing grades they see
Sent to them, with love, from me.
I do not like them, Sam I am.
I do not like my 8 a.m.