In honour of the season...

To properly celebrate this wonderous season that is upon us, I leave you this poem that I'm sure you've all read somewhere. I wish you all a happy finals and to all, a good test! I think Clement C. Moore would be proud!

T'was the Night before Finals,
And all through the college,
The students were praying
For last minute knowledge.
Most were quite sleepy,
But none touched their beds,
While visions of essays
Danced in their heads.
Out in the taverns,
A few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor
Would get their brains thinking.

In my own apartment,
I had been pacing,
Dreading all those exams
I soon would be facing.
My roommate was speechless,
Her nose in his books,
And my comments to her
Drew unfriendly looks.
I drained all the coffee,
And brewed a new pot,
No longer caring
That my nerves were shot.
I stared at my notes,
But my thoughts were all muddy,
My eyes went a'blur,
I just couldn't study.
"Some pizza might help,"I said with a shiver,
But each place I called
Refused to deliver.
I'd pretty much concluded
Life is unfair and cruel,
Since our futures all depend
On grades made in school.

When all of a sudden,
Our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put-It-Off
Ambled inside.
Her spirit was careless,
Her manner was mellow,
She looked at the mess
And started to bellow:
"Why should us students
Make such a fuss,
About what those teachers
Toss out to us?"
"On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes!On Last Year's Exams!
On Wingit and Slingit,And Last Minute Crams!"

Her message delivered,
She vanished from sight,
But we heard her laughing
Outside in the night.
"Your teachers won't flunk you,
So just do your best.
Happy Finals to All,
And to All, a good test."

"Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both," E.B. White.

Lest We Forget

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.
Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields

Wind in the Willows-Part One

Tomorrow at the public library, my children's literature group and I are doing a dramatic reading of a scene from Kenneth Graeme's classic novel, "Wind in the Willows." I had originally set out to play the part of Mole-I bougt a little jacket, glasses and everything. Well...now I am set to play the part of snobby, conceited, wonderful Mr. Toad. I get to finally play the part of an arrogant jerk-and I am still wearing the glasses! My dreams are complete!
Here is the synopsis of our reading-because Toad was in jail (he wrecked four cars, stole a police car and wrecked that too...) his manour was taken over by a mean group of weasels. Three creatures, Rat Mole and Badger, are helping Mr. Toad regain his home. Toad, escapes from jail by pretending to be a washer woman! After the four get their battle plan, they launch attack on the night of the Chief Weasel's birthday party...insert suspicious music! You will have to stay tuned to find out what happens on that fateful night-does Toad get his home back? you shall find out tomorrow!
It's going to be so much fun; we even are giving out cake. Who wouldn't love us? I know I would love cake!