Despite the anemic efforts of the mildest autumn in the past several years, the leaves on the trees around the Levine Science Research Center have finally turned a glowing shade of orange. The semester is drawing to a close and glittery Christmas trees, garish plastic Santas and dreidels glut the back end of Target. Taken together, these signs can only mean one thing-Turkey Day, in all its rotisserie-bronzed glory, is about to inundate us with superfluous gratitude (and Charlie Brown specials, but that's another story). We are mere days away from the offering of generic mashed potato thanks to universally good things, like life, liberty and parents that didn't beat us with furniture.
Initially I vowed not to get caught up in the crush-I already thanked my parents for not beating me with a chair leg-but then I realized that without my public expression of thanks, there was one particular facet of my life that was at serious risk of spending a cold and lonely Thanksgiving with nary a nod of gratitude. And because I'm (generally speaking) a conscientious person, I've decided I simply can't let that happen.
So I'd like to dedicate the rest of this diabolically rhyming column to being a teaching assistant. TAing, in this poem of thanks may you find solace from the many graduate students who have criticized you, and may you spend the rest of the day with this silly rhyme stuck in your head (because honestly, you kind of owe me).
TAing, I know I have belittled you.
As entirely too many new TAs do,
When really you've been like a blessing to me,
Well, as much of a blessing as teaching can be.
You have taught me humility, duty and sass,
Through people who can't help but sleep in my class.
For although I find myself wanting to throw stuff
I feel sympathetic, strangely enough.
Really, I know it's uncommonly boring.
That's why I stand by and pretend they aren't snoring
I can barely get people to answer a question
With candy or bribes or the power of suggestion.
Patience I learned from projector displays
Which are harder to fix than my Matlab arrays.
So thank you TAing, for teaching compassion
When most of my patience is over its ration.
Furthermore, after my Tuesday night section
You have taught me the benefits of self-protection
I walk to my car with my keys between fingers
Lest under a bush some delinquent rogue lingers.
Without you I might have been mugged and run through,
Although what they'd have taken I haven't a clue.
TAing, you taught me to respect my friend,
Who's been doing this longer than I comprehend.
I really have no idea how she's still sane,
Has remained in her brain through the pain and mundane.
She's kept me from losing my mind from the e-mails
Which hound me for tips and ridiculous details.
So thank you for doling out camaraderie
Over chocolate and wine, frozen dinners and brie.
I wouldn't have learned to write random test questions,
And take from my students discussion suggestions.
There's no way I'd own a display drive connector
And I couldn't explain the caudate motion vector
TAing, without you, what on earth would I do?
(Other than cheering and yelling "woohoo!")
Even when frantic to come up with lectures
Brimming with useless and silly conjectures.
I realize you're really enhancing my vita
More than the pineapple peach margarita
Which I would be drinking if you were not here
To keep me on track and kick me in the rear.
Finally, TAing, you're truly top brass,
I'm a true teacher's ass
When teaching my class.
I could make of your merits a fancy parade.
On second hand, screw it, I'm not even paid.
Jacqui Detwiler is a graduate student in psychology and neuroscience. Her column runs every Friday.
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