Dr. Seuss on Revising Collegiate Essays--a spoof.

So, recently I've been on a "childhood throwback" kick. Specifically speaking, I've been re-engaging the part of my brain which used to run around constantly as a little kid repeating and repeating the immortal words of Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss. I'd particularly enjoyed rediscovering my favorite...The Lorax. Well, on a whim, I decided to be a wiseass and change my FB profile picture to a portrait of the Lorax standing on a stump--complete with status update: "Ben Dawkins is the Lorax...He speaks for the trees."









Well, in order to find said Lorax portrait, I used GoogleImage search, which by the by, is awesome. When I found my perfect picture:

Well, in order to save this picture, I was taken to a webpage belonging to Jay Wentworth, an interdisciplinary professor at Appalachian State and a scholar of the Beat Generation. Attached to this webpage was a spoof based on the Lorax. It's nowhere near as long, but it's a funny little poem that made me laugh about all of the English teachers I had in school and how crazy revision made me.

Here it is:

He was shortish.

And oldish.

And brownish.

And mossy.

And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy.

"Mister!" he said with a sawdusty sneeze,

"I am the Wentworth. I speak for the Beats. I speak for the Beats, for the Beats are old or dead.

And I'm asking you, sir, by the skin on my head--

he was very upset and he shouted and puffed--

"Do this paper over for this draft is too rough!"

And then I got mad. I got terribly mad.

I yelled at the Wentworth, "Now listen here, Dad!

All you do is yap-yap and say, 'Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!'

Well, I have my rights, sir, and

I'm telling you I intend to go on doing just what I do!

And, for your information, you Wentworth, I'm figgering on writering
and WRITERING
and WRITERING
and WRITERING,

turning out MORE Papers just like this one and when I finish it, it's going to be DONE!"

The Wentworth said nothing. Just gave me a glance... just gave me a very sad, sad backward glance...

as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants.

And I'll never forget the grim look on his face when he heisted himself and took leave of

this place through the door to his office, without leaving a trace.

And all that the Wentworth left here in this mess was a small scratch of writing, with one word...

Whatever that meant, well, I just couldn't guess. That was long , long ago

But each day since that day

I've sat here and worried and worried away.

Through the years, while my books have fallen apart,

I've worried about it with all of my heart.

"But now ," says the Soph-mler,

"Now that you're here, the word of the Wentworth seems perfectly clear.

UNLESS I care, care about my Paper a whole lot,

I'm not going to write better. I'm not."

"SO... write your papers over. Write your pen dry.

Create multiple drafts and work til you cry.

Invest no ego and don't shy away from teachers that hack.

Then the Wentworth and all his Beat buddies may all come back."

Note: Apologies to Dr. Suess © Copyright 1997 Alex Howard