Ode to the Seniors

To my dear seniors I dedicate this ode that roasts,

For what is the harm of some lighthearted jokes?

But heed my warning before I move on,

A foreign national makes no good American pun.


Who else to start with but my great famiglia?

Nepotism is never an issue, when it comes to Chancellor DiMisa.

With his flask in hand, he shakes up the floor like never before,

Offering sociological insight with colors galore.


Time to run for covers, patriarchs and oppressors,

When Mr. Edgar speaks, he speaks to break all tethers.

I dare not continue for fear of his sergeant’s mace,

But I really can’t help wondering, what does moralism even mean in the first place?


Now Mr. Wilson must be already exasperated with my framing,

I might be missing the point, but this thread of logic is sustaining.

Mr. Wilson knows best metaphysics and Kant’s deepest secret,

But he also has an assassin legend that the Society will never forget.


He was once our philosopher King,

Until Mr. Hughes entered the ring.

Mr. Hughes must have had quite a blast,

Because Kant’s birthday has just passed.

But he has one more holiday I should note,

It’s been four twenty in case you don’t know.


To affirm or not to affirm, Ms. Coccia is the master of English,

Our ignorance of the literary canon she can most certainly distinguish.

The righteousness of her matriarchy we shall hate to forgo,

So why, Miss Coccia, wilt thou leave Philodemicians unsatisfied so?


For Miss Christensen, however, Aff v. Neg is always a legal matter,

With data and logic, her opponents she shatters.

But I’d better not poke fun at this Merrick winner,

Lest her friends at Martin’s deny me dinner.


Mr. Young tells us that we must step above,

The binary structure the Society conceives of,

His love of Barry Goldwater borders on excessive,

In his opinion, income taxes should be more regressive.


Now Mr. Kendrick, why are you always so serious?

Is it because your political beliefs are too delirious?

It’s such a surprise that you come from the Southern land,

Yet preaches the philosophy of Ayn Rand.


At Martin’s, Ms. Correia holds down the fort,

With the bartenders she has developed quite a rapport.

She surpassed her predecessor as a wonderful signifier,

But that was pretty easy, if I am to be fair.


This brings us straight to Mr. Ahmed,

The man who claims that God is dead.

He is only surpassed in his verbosity,

By his tie-absent generosity.


Losing Mr. Mouch will bring the Society low,

For what shall we do without such a bro?

From Bonds and Baseball to Natty Bo,

About ’Murica and football he always knows.


Mr. Wang, on the other hand, seems pure niceness,

Probably our last beacon of hope in a national healthcare crisis.

How he can betray his own industry remains a question unknown,

But his work as the librarian is as brilliant as the dry humor he’s shown.


Coming up next is his best friend Ms. Rallis,

Who defends American culture with her keynoting prowess.

But in which culture lies her true loyalty?

Who knows? But I guess it’s safe to say, Italy?


To Ms. Egan I have a special thank-you to say,

For teaching me eloquence and the true scientific way.

But despite her compassionate heart for Batman and plants,

With the humanities, she just can’t.


Every senior class has a resident drunk,

Hope Mr. Weiner has passed his Merrick funk.

No one is prouder of being a Mexican Jew,

But he takes most pride in leading a Dungeons and Dragons crew.


Ms. Huppman is not to be forgot,

Even though her speeches I have seen not.

For us freshmen she’s such a welcoming face,

No one else can keep up her pace.


Mr. Dinneen’s natural humor makes us laugh on the double,

It makes me wonder why writing this speech gives so much trouble.

In his short story of Grand Semi, he killed us all,

No wonder his speeches cast such a pall.


Mr. Mellen is a generally upstanding guy,

So nothing bad to say, have I?

Mr. Greco loves his classical music and cello,

I also have nothing for such a gentle fellow.

I apologize for this rather serious echo,

But I mean it, no jokes on you, Mr. Mellon and Mr. Greco.


Mr. Mazzara is a whole ’nother matter,

He leaves us all rollicking with laughter.

His interpretive dancing can never be rivaled,

Neither can his love for Clark Kent ever be stifled.


Ms. Muldavin and Mr. Quinn,

Important members they must have been,

Though this year they’ve been out of sight,

They shall not pass without a roast tonight.


The same goes for Ms. Kay,

Our Amanuensis back in the day.

She once delivered this ode too,

I hope mine’s better, but I heard that’s not hard to do.


There are some other names not to be forgotten,

Zeng and Akin, Bolas and Cohen.

It’s the Society that they have forsaken,

Higbee and Wooster, too, never gave us trouble,

The same could be said for Poppert and Hubbell.

But Mr. Mazumber gave one speech after I came,

So he is at least not that lame,


As the laughter subdues here comes the time,

For all those unsaid bittersweet goodbyes,

As for me, I will forever miss those fabulous demeanors,

Of our eloquent, erudite and ever endearing seniors.



Xinlan Hu

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